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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.f.Z_7 Copyright No. 

14 - 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




























































































































































■ 
























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* 



































. 

































VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND’S BOOKS 


Uniform Style, price $1.50 each. 

A BOSTON GIRL’S AMBITIONS. 

BUT A PHILISTINE. 

A WOMAN'S WORD. AND HOW SHE KEPT IT. 
DARRYLL GAP; OR, WHETHER IT PAID. 
ONLY GIRLS. 

THAT QUEER GIRL. 

LtNOX DAfkE. 

New Editions. Price $1.00 each. 

THE MILLS OF TUXBURY. 

WE HOLLANDS. 

SIX IN ALL. 

THE DEER/NGS OF MED BURY. 


LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers, 
BOSTON. 



The Hollands. 


BY 

y 

VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND. 

\\ 


Take heed how you place your confidence upon any other ground than proof of virtue. 
Neither length of acquaintance, mutual secrecy, nor height of benefits can bind a vicious heart; 
no man being good to others, who is not good to himself. 

Philip Sidney. 


BOSTON : 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 



£ 


1 4407 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 
A . K. LORING, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 


Copyright, 1897, by Virginia. F. Townsend. 


All rights reserved. 


THE HOLLANDS. 



Vox 


\ %°\~\ 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER I. 

u Wait a moment, wait a moment, Ross, and I shall 
Btop crying and be brave again.” 

The voice, a young one, and smitten through and 
choked and half-smothered by some sharp pain, but a 
voice that still gave you faith in it, — in a power be- 
hind that would assert itself and redeem its promise. 

Then the answer came, — a man’s voice this time, 
yet with some subtle family likeness to the other, 
shaken a good deal, so that you felt rather than heard 
the inward struggle that it mastered. 

“Well, Jessamine, I’ll give you another chance. 
It isn’t too late yet. Say the word, and I’ll throw up 
the whole thing and stay with you. But you know 
what an awful fact this poverty is, what it has been 
to us all our lives. It sickens me now to remember it, — 
one long, wearing struggle to make both ends meet, and 
keep up a show of decent appearance and of the old 
family respectability when the means had all melted 
away. Just think for a moment of our mother’s poor, 
worn, anxious face; it looked quieter and happier in 

3 


4 


THE HOLLANDS. 


the coffin than I ever saw it anywhere else, and I just 
thought to myself then, ‘ Poor heart ! you won’t be 
harrowed any more about the rent, nor have that 
dreadful hunted look in your eyes which I remember all 
my boyhood, as quarter day drew near. The little, low 
roof over your head now won’t cost anything !’ ” 

He paused a moment here, and the other voice sobbed 
in between : — 

“All that’s over now, Jessamine, for her, but for 
us it’s the old story again, for a number of years, at 
least. There’s no help for it. I’ve looked the thing 
fairly in the face, turned it round on every side. It will 
be only the old strain and scramble, wearing out youth 
and hope for each of us. It’s a long, hard pull for a 
fellow in the city without friends or influence of any sort, 
and there would be years of drudgery at some clerkship 
on a pittance of a salary, before I could provide you or 
myself with a comfortable home and beat the wolf from 
the door. But, Jessamine, you’re all I’ve got in the 
world now, and come to the point, it’s so tough to leave 
you, that, if you say the word, I’ll give it all up and 
stay here, and do the best I can.” 

This time the pause was longer, and into it there came 
no sobs. There were struggling^ breaths though. You 
knew she was girding up her soul to speak. 

“ I dare not tell you to stay, Ross. It is true all 
that you have said. It seems to me, though,’ now that 
the time of parting has come, that it would be easier to 
live in a garret and on a crust with you than in a palace 
without you ! ” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


5 


“ I don’t think it would quite come to that, Jessa- 
mine/’ — with a smile, half-bitter, half-sorrowful, on the 
freshly-bearded lip. 

That was his weakest moment. I think just then Ross 
half wished that Jessamine would bid him stay. 

Perhaps the girl dimly discerned it ; but, young as she 
was, she had a conscience, and a will that obeyed it. 
Her inmost self had spokdn in those words, “ I do not 
dare tell you to stay.” It was right Ross should go. If 
he stayed, all the best possibilities of his future might 
be paralyzed. So, though this parting tugged at her 
heartstrings, held in it some of the bitterness of death, 
she would not bid him stay. Give the girl credit for it. 
Of such stuff are the real men and women made, whether 
they stand in high places or low, whether the world knows 
them or not. 

“ To the garret and the crust ? ” — trying to return 
his smile playfully, but making a pitiful failure of it. 
“ But it would come to the long, slow toil and wasting 
of youth and life, which, in the end, would be harder to 
bear than to know you are so far away from me. I see 
there is no place for you near me, Ross, and, after all, it 
is God’s world there as much as here.” 

The momentary weakness had slipped from the youth’s 
soul too. 

“ So good-by, Jessamine. You and I know all that 
is locked up in those words.” 

A sudden blenching, a scared look on her face, — u Is 
it quite time ? ” 

“ Yes, the train will be along in half an hour. I 


6 


THE HOLLA ADS. 


thought it best to make this as short as possible for both 
of us, so I did not get in sooner. Will you walk over 
to the depot with me?” 

She saw that he asked this for her sake, not his own. 
“ No, Ross, I could not have all that loud, coarse crowd 
staring at us when I spoke the last word, — had the last 
kiss like this. Good-by.” Her arms tight about his 
neck, — her warm, clinging kisses on his lips. 

“ Good-by, little sister ; oh, good-by ! ” His face was 
working, his very breath coming in hot gasps now. He 
would break down if he stayed another minute. There 
was a small lounge in the room. He laid her right down 
on that, as if she had been a baby, her face away from 
him, and rushed out of the room, — out of the house, 
going to — life or death j all that would be as God 
willed. 

Jessamine Holland lay there a while as her brother 
had left her. It seemed that she would never have life 
enough to get up again, except when she felt those 
dreadful stabs of pain that doubled her all up like 
swift blows. Once in a while she wrung her hands in 
a sudden spasm of ache, when she looked out to the 
future, and saw the long, slow, desolate years before he 
would come again ; he, Ross, the only one of her race, 
the only thing, too, she really loved on earth. 

“How much better it would have been if they could 
only have died,” she thought in the hot, passionate 
anguish of her youth, “ than to be on different sides of 
the world ! ” 

Suddenly she heard the car- whistle, — that long, sharp 


THE HOLLANDS. 


7 


cry, that, familiar as it may be, never comes to you in 
certain moments, in soft twilights and dead wastes of 
midnight, without seeming like the cry of some wild, 
maddened thing in pain and terror. Jessamine Holland 
sprang up and rushed out. Betwixt the hills there was 
a bend just before they entered the ‘gorge, where one 
might get a glimpse of the cars. In a moment they 
came thundering along. She snatched off a little crimson 
scarf she wore and shook it in the air. Ross would 
know just where to look for the house. In a moment 
she caught sight of his figure on the platform. She 
could discern it plainly, though he was half a mile away. 
He took off his hat, swung it in the air ; and the long 
train glided out of her gaze into the hollow, and Jessa- 
mine Holland stood there all alone. 

The house behind her was a kind of compromise between 
a cottage and a farm-house. It was old ; but there had 
been evident attempts to restore it, — at least, give it a 
certain appearance of homely comfort. The color was a 
reddish-brown, dingy with years. A low veranda 
across the front had evidently been an after-thought. 

It was an afternoon late in October, the air warm, 
damp, and still, the sky smothered all up in gray, 
opaque-looking clouds. There had been terrible frosts 
that year, — you saw all that by the withered leaves 
and grasses ; they had lain in the grasp of death, and no 
warmth and light now could stir them out of the torpor ; 
still it seemed that the air had lapsed into a faint dream 
of her vanished summer, — a mild, moist, still autumn 
afternoon that had something pleasant and soothing in it, 


8 


' THE HOLLANDS. 


waiting between the frosts and the Indian summer. The 
landscape which stretched away from the veranda was a 
pleasant one, with no marked individuality. In the 
distance the hills * rose to the horizon, bearing great 
pastures half way up to their summits. Nearer there was 
a narrow river, with its dark tannery, and its mills and 
roads sloping here and there, after a picturesque, inco- 
herent fashion, as country roads mostly do. The town 
lay on either side of the river, and the rusty cottage 
perched on the top of the hill took in most of it ; the 
stores, and the dwelling-houses, and the great town hall, 
and the little brown depot perched on one side, — a 
pleasant, wide, airy scene, but with no especial power nor 
grouping of anything to strike an artist. This girl, 
Jessamine Holland, standing on the veranda, is the 
central point in the picture for you and me. She is not 
handsome, noi beautiful, still less does the word pretty 
fit her, as in one way and another it does most girls of 
her age. She is very young, loitering somewhere late in 
her seventeenth year. Her hair is of a dark-brownish 
tint, fine and luxuriant; and her eyes — large, clear, 
truthful eyes — match it; eyes that you can trust, and 
that will never betray you, either with smiling or weeping. 

There is a fresh, dewy youth of girlhood about the 
face, and the red, fine, yet full curve of the lips, all 
suggest feeling and force ; yet it seems to me this face of 
J essamine Holland never belonged to anybody who had 
led a careless, happy childhood. There is a certain 
thoughtfulness pervading it, which hardly belongs to its 
years, and makes it sometimes look older than she is; 


THE HOLLANDS. 


9 


yet when the sadness slips off, as it does in bright and 
happy moods, the girl does not look her years, few as 
they are. 

If the word were not so worn out with a certain kind 
of use, I should say this girl had an interesting face; 
it has a life, character, sweetness, of its own. There 
she stands, with her flushed face, and her wet eyes, and 
her lips apart, listening to the train as its rumble grows 
fainter and fainter among the hills. 

The brother that swift train is carrying away is un- 
like her in looks as possible, and there is only a faint 
thread of family likeness in their characters. Ross Holland 
is now just twenty-one ; he had the reputation of a bright 
boy at school ; was big and awkward, though he has 
pretty much outgrown that, and has come up into a 
large, stalwart young manhood ; nothing particularly 
elegant or graceful about him however. 

As for his face, the features are large and of an agree- 
able homeliness, with eyes blue, wide, and clear as a 
lake, that waits in the deep heart of some forest for the 
summer dawn ; and soft, bright yellowish hair, with that 
elusive golden tint which poets love. 

The history of this brother and sister is common 
enough, but always a pitiful one. They come of a sort 
of broken-down race on both sides, though the old vital- 
ity of the stock seems to have quickened in them once 
more. The father, a dreamy, indolent, impractical man ; 
a wood chopper or a breaker of stones on the highway 
would have done more real service to the world, so he 
had been honest and diligent, than the father of Ross 


10 


THE HOLLANDS. 


and Jessamine Holland. The man somehow seemed sent 
into the world to be of no mortal use in it, — was a 
mere absorbent ; jet he did not lack intelligence, and had 
the manner and conversational habits of a gentleman ; 
had, too, his little stock of pet theories, which he was 
ready to air with a rather tiresome loquacity whenever 
he could get a listener, but set him to any work which 
required promptness and practicality, and he was doomed 
to inevitable failure. 

There was some lack of stamina, some want of balance, 
in the mental or moral structure of the man, or both, 
which made his fate; how much was his fault, no mortal 
could know. 

Such a man, of course, run through with his property, 
though he had inherited what, with ordinary care, would 
have made him a large fortune ; but it slipped through 
his fingers like water through a sieve, while its owner 
mooned and dreamed among his books and pet theories. 

Mrs. Holland was by no means the wife for this kind 
of man. She belonged to the delicate, nervous, clinging 
type, — one whom troubles and emergencies, requiring a 
prompt perception of the broad bearings of the case, and 
practical energy to meet them, would be likely to break 
down utterly. In those great test moments of life, which 
in one shape or another come to us all, Mrs. Holland was 
liable to go down into tears and hysteric spasms. Still, 
the burden was a heavy one, and the shoulders on which 
it fell were not fitted to carry it. 

Long before their boy and girl were born, — for these 
were the last of a large household that dropped into 


THE HOLLANDS. 


11 


small graves, — the family fortunes had begun to de- 
cline. 

Ross and Jessamine Holland had been born into that 
old, miserable struggle of pride with poverty. The hus- 
band and father wasted his days in dreams and theories 
that did nobody any good, and his wife grew worn every 
year with tears and anxieties and shifts of every sort. 
So the children were defrauded of half the life and 
brightness of their years in the dreary, depressing atmos- 
phere betwixt the irritability of one parent and the wear- 
ing anxieties of the other. 

Of course, every year made it worse ; the misery, 
being the consequence of defects and feebleness of char- 
acter, had no remedy. The wolf drew closer to the 
door. One piece of land after another was sold to fur- 
nish bread and shelter for the household, while all sorts 
of sordid economies chilled the young lives coming up 
in the midst of them. 

If there had not entered into the making of the boy 
and girl, some of the stamina transmitted from the long- 
dead generations, this cloud and darkness that hung so 
heavily on their blossoming years must have fatally 
dwarfed their natures; but there was a force in both, 
though of a different sort, that repelled much which was 
unwholesome in the influence gathered around the dawn- 
ing of their lives, — not that they escaped unharmed. 
The boy was naturally obstinate, and the rainy day atmos- 
phere of his home often made him sullen. The girl was 
sensitive, and she became more or less moody and pas- 
sionate ; but with all this, each nature would often assert 


12 


THE HOLLANDS. 


its birthright to happiness. And slipping off all their 
troubles, the two would flash up into hours of such high 
glee and wild sport, that the dark old home would shine 
out brightly from its prevailing hues of mist and vapor, 
settling back, of course, into its habitual tone after 
a while. For it was a dreadful struggle, — a sickening 
one, — with no steady hand at the helm, and that con- 
stant strain to make both ends meet and keep up some 
show of respectability on inadequate means. It came 
down at times to penury, actual suffering, hunger, and 
cold. And still Josiah Holland mooned about the house 
with his hands in his pocket and his face in a dream, with 
the poor worn wife, the hunted look in her eyes, and the 
pitiful faces of his children about him. Even their 
youth could not quite shake off the feeling of guilt and 
shame which clung to them. 

Ross had just attained his fourteenth year when his 
father’s life suddenly went out. The family was no 
worse for that ; on the whole, a little bettered. 

Some remote connection bestirred himself and found 
Ross a position as errand-boy in a lawyer’s office. The 
salary was a mere pittance, paid to the boy’s mother for 
his board, but trickled a steady rivulet into the small 
stream that nourished their lives. 

So three or four more years went on. The father of 
Ross had been a scholar, and he had educated his son in a 
miscellaneous way, and the boy had plenty of opportuni- 
ties to indulge his natural craving for study in his inter- 
vals of leisure at the lawyer’s office. 

At last, however, Mrs. Holland broke down with anx- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


13 


iety and overwork, and went out of life almost as sudden- 
ly as her husband. 

By this time, the stream which, thus far, had kept soul 
and body of the Holland family together, was drained to 
its sources. 

Ross taught district schools in the towns around for 
two or three winters that followed, and at last he found 
a place in the city as book-keeper, on a small salary. 
They gave up the old home which they had rented long 
before their father’s death, and the sale of the faded 
furniture boarded Jessamine at the home of a servant 
who had lived with her mother in better days, and who 
had married a small farmer in the town, and had always 
retained a loyal attachment to the household. 

This family history has occupied more space than I 
intended. The last words of Ross to his sister tell the 
rest. The young man had clearly discerned the situation, 
and what his prospects were in the over-crowded city. 
A long drudgery at the desk, and a slender salary for 
years, was not inviting to a soul tired of the grip of 
poverty. 

An opportunity suddenly opened of a clerkship in a 
commercial house in the East Indies. The salary trebled 
his present one, and there was every prospect of advance- 
ment for talent and energy. You have seen what it cost 
Ross Holland to make up his mind to go, and how at the 
very last his will well-nigh failed him. The feeling betwixt 
Jessamine and himself was something very unusual even 
betwixt brother and sister. Probably the lonely, darkened 
childhood of both had knit them closer to each other. 


14 


TH2 HOLLANDS. 


Jessamine Holland had, as you must have discerned, 
no ordinary force of character when it was put to the 
test. She was resolved on some self-helpfulness, and 
through her brother’s influence she succeeded in obtain- 
ing some copying at the two law-offices in the town. The 
remuneration was a mere pittance, and of an uncertain 
kind; but it gave Jessamine a blessed feeling of 
independence. 

She was to live still with the family where she had 
found a home for the last two years. The household 
atmosphere was not refined, and there was much that was 
coarse and repugnant to a nature that had inherited fine 
tastes and feelings ; but kindness of a certain sort, and a 
comfortable shelter, made up for much that was lacking. 
At any rate, this was Jessamine’s only refuge, and here 
her brother le^ her. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


15 


CHAPTER II. 

“ Well, ma, you know Duke always was singular, and 
he would express his gratitude in a way peculiarly his 
own.” 

“ Certainly, my dear ; and one can’t say a word when 
we remember what an immense obligation the whole 
family rests under to the young man. It’s really em- 
barrassing. It makes me shiver yet when I think of the 
peril from which Duke so narrowly escaped. What an 
awful thing it might have been ! I’m ready to do any- 
thing that is proper and generous to the preserver of my 
boy’s life, but I really wish it was an obligation that a 
handsome sum of money would discharge.” 

“ 0 mamma, it would never do to suggest that 
before Duke. You ought to have seen the way he 
flushed up when papa suggested it after they had gone 
over the whole thing together. ‘Sir,’ he said, — and 
you know how Duke can say a thing when his spirit is 
up, — ‘ if I were such a caitiff as to offer money to that 
fellow for so nobly risking his life in my behalf, I hope 
he’d tell me that he was sorry he had not left my miser- 
able carcass to rot under the waves. I should certainly 
deserve no better answer.’ ” 


16 


THE HOLLANDS. 


11 And what did jour father say ? ” asked the lady, 
with a little smile, evidently half enjoying the high 
spirit of the reply, — and only half. 

11 Oh, he hemmed and hawed, and said he was ready 
and glad to do whatever was proper, and that Duke must 
find out the best mode of proving our gratitude ; hut I 
thought papa wished, like you, that it was something 
which dollars and cents could pay for.” 

In one corner of the handsome room the mother and 
daughter talked in a low undertone together; in the 
other was a group of girls at the piano, utterly absorbed 
in their chatter over some German opera music, — pretty, 
blooming girls, with a year or two dividing their ages, 
and a family likeness more or less decided running 
through the whole group. 

Mrs. Mason Walbridge, sitting in the corner, with the 
bright crimson meshes of the shawl she was knitting 
flowing over her lap, for she had nice little theories of 
industry, looks just what she is, - — the handsome mother 
of this blooming group of girls ; a lady who, under all 
circumstances, and in any position which she may occupy, 
will be certain to reflect credit on herself, — a woman of 
respectabilities and fitnesses always. But if your line 
and plummet went deeper than this, — into heart, feel- 
ing, sympathy, — into the things that are vital and eter- 
nal, — this woman, with her fair outside and her scrupulous 
life, somehow failed you. The great trouble with her 
was an excessive worldliness. It interpenetrated her 
whole being, shaped all her life-purposes, colored her 
thoughts and feelings even, though Mrs. Walbridge was 


THE HOLLANDS. 


17 


quite unconscious of it, — people are apt to be of their 
besetting sins. 

The world had always been kindly to this woman, her 
life flowing in broad, smooth currents ; no dreadful 
ploughshares of grief and loss going down deep into her 
nature, and turning up the good or evil to the light; if 
there were in her, too, hot, sulphurous passions of sel- 
fishness, envies, malice, their fires had never flashed up 
to her consciousness ; all seemed as smooth and polished 
as her life. 

Mrs. Walbridge had married prosperously; indeed, 
you could hardly imagine her doing otherwise. Her 
husband was a rather dull, pompous man on the surface, 
with a good many obstinacies and angularities, but with 
plenty of business shrewdness and foresight, as a long 
and prosperous commercial career abundantly proved. 

Mason Walbridge was fond and proud of his wife and 
family in his way. He indulged them, with a moderate 
allowance of grumbling, in all the elegance and luxury 
which his ample wealth afforded. He prided himself on 
what he regarded as the solid things of life, — money, 
respectability, social and business reputation. He even 
had some ambitions beyond that, — ambitions for civil and 
political distinction. He lived in one of the large inland 
cities of Massachusetts, and had been three times nomi- 
nated for mayor, and once elected. “ His Honor, Mason 
Walbridge,” as it always gratified the gentleman to have 
his letters superscribed, lived in one of the quiet, but 
most expensive localities of the city. The house would 
have struck you at once, with its solid, substantial look, 
2 


18 


THE HOLLANDS. 


in the midst of pleasant grounds, an ample, rather pre- 
tentious stone house, with a couple of couchant lions on 
the steps, dark, and grim, — a kind of stern warder of the 
respectabilities and virtues within. Then there were 
terraces, arbors, walks with facings of shrubberies, and 
on every hand rare flowers that rejoiced the eyes and in- 
spired the air; and a fountain shooting up its waters 
from an urn between two reclining marble naiads, — ■ 
everything very elegant and in good taste, you see ; and 
everybody conceded that Mason Walbridge had the finest 
residence in town. 

The eldest daughter of the house, Edith Walbridge, 
had slipped off her school-days, and was now in so- 
ciety. Her family was very proud of her, and in 
many ways she certainly justified the feeling; a hand- 
some face, after the mother’s type, fine bloom and deli- 
cate mould of feature, with a wonderful brilliancy and 
archness which made her very attractive in society. Her 
character, too, in its general structure, was like her 
mother’s, with something more of force and individuality; 
a haughtier temper when it was roused, a stronger will 
when it was opposed ; but these did not often indicate 
themselves, for Edith had the natural good nature of the 
family. 

Mrs. Walbridge trained her children after what she 
believed to be the most exemplary pattern ; indeed, she 
relished pet theories and maxims, and interfused them 
largely into all those admonitions on which the young 
lives about her were mostly reared. She desired her 
daughters to become, after her own ideal, perfect women, 


THE HOLLANDS. 


19 


wives, and mothers, and that ideal was one of exemplary 
respectability in all that the world values ; an ideal, too, 
that the woman believed she herself realized, although 
a modesty quite in keeping with the rest of Mrs. Wal- 
bridge’s character would have prevented her ever ex- 
pressing any such conviction. 

“ There, girls, there; one really can’t hear themselves 
think, you make such a chatter,” was Mrs. Walbridge’s 
mild admonition to the four girls about the piano, as the 
talk waxed louder and louder, after the manner of school- 
girls. 

It was growing towards twilight ; the golden lights 
haunting the shrubberies outside, until they burned up 
suddenly with the last unearthly glory and beauty of the 
day, almost, a poet might have thought reverently, as 
though God walked in the cool of the evening among 
them. 

Mrs. Walbridge and her daughter, looking out, how- 
ever, over the pleasant grounds, certainly thought nothing 
of this sort. 

It was not an atmosphere through which flashed the 
sudden inspirations of poetic fancies, or across which 
loomed sometimes vast horizons of lofty visions, which, 
though they fade swiftly, leaving us only the flats of 
our every-day life, still haunt our memories like the 
mighty mountain landscapes where our feet have stood, 
or the vast solemn seas to whose shores we have gone 
down. 

In the Walbridge atmosphere you always felt some- 
how that wealth was the greatest thing, and the most to 


THE HOLLANDS. 


20 . 

be desired in the world, — the one solid, substantial good, 
before which all other things dwindled in importance. 
What if it narrowed and crushed also all higher impulses, 
with all Teachings of the soul after that life that is more 
than meat or drink? 

“There comes Duke,” said Edith, suddenly, closing 
the book she had been indolently attempting to read for 
the last hour. 

Mrs. Walbridge folded up the soft, glowing meshes of 
her knitting. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “'It 
was very imprudent to go out so soon after that terrible 
exposure. I told him so ; but Duke is like his sex and 
his age; he never will listen to reason.” 

You would not have been half an hour in the Wal- 
bridge family without feeling that this Duke was some 
strong force in the household ; not a pliant, 'nor perhaps 
altogether an approved one ; nevertheless, a force. 

The others were always quoting his sayings and doings, 
often with a little touch of ridicule or sarcasm, frequent- 
ly with perplexity and more or less admiration. 

There was a hurrying of feet along the passage, and 
he burst into the room, — a young man, looking his years, 
and they were twenty-two ; nothing very remarkable in 
his appearance at first sight, as I know of, for Duke had 
managed to escape the general good looks of the family. 

He was not particularly homely either ; a rather slen- 
der, though broad-chested youth ; a well-knit figure that 
gave a comfortable warrant of health and strength* but 
not a particle of Apollo grace in its movements ; indeed, 
it had been one of the trials of Mrs. Walbridge’s lifo 


THE HOLLANDS. 


21 


that her only son should have barely escaped being actu- 
ally awkward and clumsy during all his boyhood. He 
had outgrown that, — even the slouch in his shoulders and 
gait, though his mother in her secret soul hardly felt like 
insuring the latter now. A light complexion, a face that 
did not strike you as remarkable at first sight, but that 
somehow won you to turn and look at it over and over 
again, and each time you would like it better, — a 
strong, rather grave, manly face, with gray, clear, honest 
eyes ; and, over all, a mass of loose beautiful hair, — a 
rich brown hue, gleaming here and there into auburn, — 
is the best portrait I can paint for you of Duke Walbridge. 

That of course was not his real name, which was 
Philip, though his family had so far naturalized the 
other, that they would never get back to his legitimate 
title. Duke was the household name. It had become 
fastened on the boy when he was hardly out of small 
clothes, because of a certain dignity and independence 
with which he used to carry himself when he was op- 
posed or angry, and which sat in a wonderfully amusing 
way on the small head and shoulders. From his baby- 
hood there had always been some marked character and 
individuality about the boy, to which no other of the 
Walbridges, big or little, could lay claim. 

So this “ Duke ” had clung to the solitary male rep- 
resentative of the family, and it was bound up with him 
now, for good or evil. Around it clustered so many old 
household associations, with their strong, homely fra- 
grance, so much that was pleasant, and odd, and amusing, 
so much, too, of all that was tenderest and sweetest in the 


22 


THE HOLLANDS. 


young life of the household, that, though the statelier 
name might be aired on grand occasions and worn for 
strangers, the other had its roots far down in their 
thoughts and hearts, and would hold its claim, slipping 
over their lips and in their ears, — the dear old, thread- 
bare household name. 

There was a little stir at the piano and in the corner 
when he came. Duke always brought in one way and 
another a fresh breeze into the family circle. 

“Well, Duke, you do get over your ducking the easi- 
est of anybody I ever saw,” laughed Edith, who was 
always fond of rallying her brother. 

“Hush, dear!” said her mother, gravely. “ It was 
too serious a matter to speak of in that light way. I 
declare, Duke, I never can bear the thought of your 
going on the water again.” 

“Well, then, you must make up your mind to my 
finding Death some time on the land then, mother. It 
strikes me one doesn’t make much by standing at guard 
with Fate all the time, as Angelos did with envy. Death 
is sure to have the victory in the end.” 

“Why, Duke,” said Eva, the youngest of his sisters, 
— the pet, too, — coming over and hanging on him ; 
“one would think, to hear you talk, you were as ready 
to die as John Knox, or one of the old martyrs.” 

“No,” — speaking very seriously. “ I didn’t feel that 
way at all when I found myself going down and the cold, 
salt brine gurgling and choking in my throat. Ugh ! 
don’t talk about it.” 

Eva drew nearer to her brother in a caressing way, 


THE HOLLANDS. 


23 


slipping one arm about his neck. There was a moment’s 
% lull at the piano. Duke’s story had a dramatic interest 
for the girls, that superseded the German opera for a 
time. They were never tired of hearing him go over the 
details, and it was not often they could get him to talk 
about it. 

Duke was dreadfully moody in this, as in most other 
things. He went on now in a moment, half talking to 
himself, “ I tell you it brought up all my past life, in 
a single flash, as clear as broad noonday. I saw the 
whole of it, — little things I’d forgotten, that happened 
long ago, standing out sharp and vivid. I’ve heard of 
such things with drowning people, — I felt it then.” 

There was a little pause here. Everybody looked 
grave ; everybody, too, looked at Duke with some new 
tenderness and interest for the awful peril out of which 
he had barely escaped. It gave him a new importance, 
a kind of hero aspect in all their eyes. Of this there was 
no need though. Duke’s individuality always carried 
with it a certain power of self-assertion. He was not vain 
however ; get to the bottom of him, underneath a certain 
morbid pride and sensitiveness lay a profound humility. 

“How long were you in that dreadful water?” ven- 
tured Grace. 

“ Two minutes. You know I am a tolerable swimmer 
in smooth waters, but those great, roaring, hungry waves 
rushed over me and sucked me down. I tried to fight 
them, but it was little use. I was giving out and going 
under for good, when something grasped me, and a voice 
shouted, ‘ Hold on, and I’ll save you.’ ” 


24 


THE HOLLANDS. 


He stopped here, his voice working and breaking up 
in his throat. There were tears in other eyes beside 
Duke’s. 

“You did not stay long in the water after that?” 
said Edith. 

“Not very, though it seemed hours ; moments do at such 
times. They stopped the steamer. I heard the shouts 
of the men over the roar of the winds and waves. They 
threw out ropes, and got a boat down and took us in, 
though we were both pretty well exhausted.” 

“ It was a heroic deed, — saving my brother’s life. It 
seems just like a romance ! ” rejoined Eva. 

“Heroic! it was more than that, — it was sublime! 
risking his life to save mine in that way. The noble, gen- 
erous fellow ! It stirs every pulse in me to think of it.” 

Mrs. Walbridge was not consciously disposed to depre- 
ciate the character of the act, yet every word which 
enhanced it only added to her uncomfortable sense of 
obligation. “0 Duke, how could you risk your life in 
that way ! ” she said, reproachfully. 

“ It was foolhardy, I suppose ; but there was a terrible 
gale, which grew as the night came on, and you know 
what an intoxication a storm at sea has for me. I went 
on the upper deck, and stood there, drinking it all in 
with a strange, fierce joy, never dreaming of danger ; 
indeed, there was none, if I’d had my wits about me. 
At last I fell to helping one of the sailors, who was 
removing a mass of stuff which had somehow got piled 
together on the upper deck — ” 

“ What an idea, Duke, that you should turn deck- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


25 


hand ! ” put in here another of the sisters, with a little 
amused laugh, touched all through with contempt, not 
of the ill-natured sort though. 

“ I can’t exactly account for it, but an instinct of help- 
fulness, of practical activity, seizes me sometimes in 
strange places and ways. I don’t think I should have 
been sorry, if I’d gone under, to remember that my 
last act had been to relieve that poor fellow of part of 
his load.” 

Nobody made any reply here, and Duke kept on : — 

“ I had just reached the stairs when the boat gave a 
great lurch, and I staggered, tried to regain myself, and 
failed. The next thing I remember, I was going over 
the side into the sea. Ugh ! the first cold plunge of the 
waves. But, girls, you have heard all this before,” 
— suddenly drawing back into his shell. 

“ Oh, dear, don’t stop, Duke ! ” chimed up half a 
dozen young voices; “it would be new if you told it a 
hundred times.” 

“Of course they made an immense fuss over us when 
they got us back into the ship.” It was Duke’s habit to 
be light and satirical when he felt deeply, so they under- 
stood him now, and that the memory of the scene tugged 
at his heartstrings. “We were both pretty well used 
up, but the passengers and the crew gathered about us, the 
women talking and crying for joy. It was a great scene.” 

“ I wish I’d been there ! ” chorused the young voices 
again. 

Then one of them asked, “ But what did you and 
the young man say to each other? ” 

3 


26 


THE HOLLANDS, 


“ Nothing until the next morning. The doctors got us 
into warm sheets with cordials down our throats. And 
what could I say when we met afterwards, only grasp 
my preserver’s hand, and tell him what was the simple 
truth, — he had done for me the greatest deed one human 
being could for another, and placed me, too, under an 
obligation which I and all those to whom my life was 
dear must carry to their graves.” 

“Well, now, that was just the right thing!” said 
Eva, admiringly. “I’m sure I shall remember the 
young man as long as I live, and that he saved our 
Duke’s life, — shan’t we, mamma ? ” 

“ Certainly, my dear,” answered her mother. It was 
the fit and proper thing, therefore she could not gainsay it. 

“But what did the young man say?” asked another 
of the sisters. 

“ Flushed up to the very roots of his hair, as though 
instead of doing something to be proud of for all his life 
to come, he ought to be ashamed of himself. ‘ Don’t 
put it in that light,’ he said. 1 1 think you’d have done 
as much for me under the circumstances.’ ” 

“ Why, how manly and modest ! He must be a real 
hero, like one of those grand old knights ! ” remarked 
Eva again, who had a girl’s romantic fancies of heroism 
and knight-errantry, and all that, though the household 
temperament was hardly one to develop anything of this 
sort. 

“Daughter, don’t interrupt yout brother quite so 
often with your impressions,” said the soft voice of the 
mother. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


27 


Mrs. Walbridge’s reproofs were usually of the gentlei 
sort ; yet there was always a certain dignity and pro- 
priety in these, which gave them more weight and effect 
than any degree of vehemence on the part of some 
people. 

“ I told him in reply, ” continued Duke, “ that I was 
not quite so sure of myself as he seemed to be. I very 
much doubted whether I should have had the generous 
courage to jump into that boiling sea, and risk my life 
for a man of whom I had never so much as heard. 

“ ‘ That is not exactly my case,’ he said ; 1 1 sat next 
you at supper, and we had some talk during the meal. 
I saw your face as the light flashed on it when you went 
over, and remembered it.’ 

££ I recalled, then, some talk about the weather and 
the boat, which we had at supper. It had quite 
slipped out of my thought though; and, as I told my 
preserver, £ a man must be very magnanimous who felt so 
slight a circumstance gave another any claim on him, — 
to the hazarding of his life even.’ ” 

££ What did he say then ? ” asked Edith, who, like all 
the others, was absorbed in her brother’s story. 

<£ I don’t retnember precisely. It was easy to see that 
my thanks embarrassed the young fellow, and, in fact, any 
words I could say seemed so mean and small, so far 
below the vast debt which I owed the preserver of my 
life, that I, in turn, could find little to say. We took 
each other’s names and addresses, and so parted.” 

££ Now, if you had been two women,” said Eva, who was 
a bright little girl, ££ you would have kissed each other.” 


28 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Duke laughed, and drew the girl toward him with a 
little sudden demonstration of tenderness, quite unusual to 
himself ; in fact any instance of affection on his part was 
always apt to leap out from a shy, reticent nature, which 
it suddenly overmastered. “ We didn’t do anything of 
that sort, Eva ; but we wrung each other’s hands, until 
both shoulders ached, I think. We men have to express 
our feelings in rougher fashions than you do.” 

“ And you said the name was Ross Holland? ” said 
Eva. 

“It’s quite a pretty one,” said Edith. 

“It will always sound more than pretty to me,” 
answered her brother. 

After a little pause, he continued : “I’ve been to see 
my friend this afternoon. He leaves day after to-morrow 
for the East Indies; is engaged in some commercial 
house there. I invited him up here to dinner to-morrow 
noon. I thought my family would wish to see, at least, 
the man who had saved my life.” 

“ Certainly we do. I should have sent for the young 
man, Duke, if you had not first thought of it. I wish 
there was something w T e could do for him,” said Mrs. 
Walbridge, who felt relieved to find the young man was 
going so soon to the antipodes. 

“How does he look and appear?” asked one of the 
girls, naturally enough. 

“ He’s rather a stout, well-knit fellow ; a little broader 
and taller than I ; a good face ; not handsome, as you 
girls would put it ; but a clear, open, manly face, — one 
of the sort that will make its way in the world.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


29 


“ Does he seem like one who has had advantages of 
family or good-breeding, — a gentleman, in short ? ” asked 
Mrs. Walbridgc, who somehow had doubts on this subject. 

“ I should think he must have been well brought up; 
but he isn’t one of your gloved and perfumed city fops, 
by any means,” answered Duke, who did not much relish 
the question. “ He’s quiet and shy, I think ; but self- 
possessed and straightforward. I haven’t asked him 
whether he was rich, or accustomed to the best society ; 
but I should not be ashamed to introduce him to my sis- 
ters, even if he hadn’t just saved my life.” 

If anybody in the world ever made Mrs. Walbridge 
internally wince a little, it was this queer son of hers. 
He had a habit of turning around on her some side of hei 
question which she had never thought it possessed before, 
and which really seemed to carry a complexion of selfish- 
ness and pretension, which always made her a little un- 
comfortable ; for the lady had that inward self-satisfaction 
and complacency to which she believed her virtues ana 
dignity entitled her. The truth was, she was a little 
afraid of Duke, and could never exactly make up her 
mind just how much he meant by these speeches, or 
whether they were merely his habit of sarcasm. She 
was glad, however, that just then the sight of her hus- 
band’s cabriolet rolling up through the drive spared her 
the necessity of a reply, and Mrs. Walbridge usually 
condescended to explain herself, and make her position 
good after one of these speeches of Duke’s, — a kind of 
self-defence, however, to which she was seldom obliged to 
resort in her talk with others. 


30 


THE HOLLANDS. 


A moment after, Mason Walbridge entered the room. 
He was a rather portly gentleman, with a kind of solid, 
substantial air ; just your idea of a prosperous business 
man settling down into a comfortable old age. Not that 
he had exactly attained this yet, though his hair was 
quite frosted and his face had gathered up thick wrinkles, — 
a man with whom you instinctively felt all mere theories, 
idealisms, enthusiasms, would find it hard to maintain 
themselves. There was a stubborn practicality, a solid 
materialism, suggested by the man’s very presence ; and 
this did not belie the character and temperament of 
Mason Walbridge. 

“ 0 pa, you ought to have been here,” said Eva, who 
you have already discovered was a talker, and petted 
more or less, as the youngest of the family flock has a 
prescriptive right to be. u Duke has been telling us 
over again all about his falling into the water ; and he 
has invited that young man who saved him to come up to 
dinner to-morrow. I’m so glad. I want to see him so 
much.” 

An invitation to dine at the Walbridges was regarded 
by them as conferring a certain honor. Their massive, 
carved front doors did not open indiscriminately to peo- 
ple. Their guests must have some warrant of social dis- 
tinction, wealth, or business position, — some personal 
weight which passed muster with the world. 

The gentleman looked at his wife. He was accustomed 
to refer all home matters to her opinion, having the high- 
est regard for the lady’s excellent judgment, and a pro- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


31 


found faith that she would always do the thing that was 
proper and best under the circumstances. 

“ That seems all right. What does your mother say 
of it?” 

“ I’ve already told Duke that I entirely approve of 
the invitation, my dear,” answered the lady ; and that of 
course settled the matter. 

Look abroad, my reader, over the world of your ac- 
quaintances, and see if you do not find more than one 
family with a general moral likeness to these Wal- 
bridges. 


32 


THE HOLLANDS 


CHAPTER III V 

Duke Walbridge has told you already the story of 
his escape from drowning, and of his rescue by Ross 
Holland. 

The latter had reached New York at the appointed 
time, hut some unforeseen circumstances had delayed for 
tnree or four days the sailing of the vessel in which he 
was to take passage for the East Indies. 

Meanwhile, the house with which he was connected 
having some business engagement to complete with a firm 
in an inland city in Massachusetts, it was suggested that 
Ross should relieve the partners of the journey. If the 
matter was satisfactorily accomplished, about which there 
was little doubt, he was to receive a hundred dollars and 
the payment of all expenses. 

He thought of Jessamine. There was just time to re- 
turn and give her a single day, which the poor child 
would hail with rapturous delight ; but there would be 
the terrible parting afresh, and Ross shrank from the 
thought of laying bare that wound again. 

If he accomplished his mission, J essamine should have 
all that came of it. He would sacredly devote the whole 
proceeds to his sister, and there was no telling what a 


THE HOLLANDS. 


33 


hundred dollars would be to her, — smiling a little over 
that thought. 

There was no doubt Ross would, in the end, be doing 
J essamine the greater kindness by making this journey 
in her interests, instead of seeking her again. 

So Ross Holland decided, and took the Sound steamer 
that very night. You know what happened then. Ross 
was a brave, impulsive fellow, and when he saw the face 
of Duke Walbridge, the lights flashing on it as it went 
over into the sea, all that was generous and heroic in the 
young soul thrilled into life. 

He did think of Jessamine a moment, for, though he 
was a bold swimmer, that was a black sea, and it was at 
no slight risk that he entered it. 

But again the light streamed full on the faee, with the 
loud, hungry waves after it ; the face he had sat next to 
a little while ago at supper, and been singularly struck 
with some power and expression in it. 

11 Perhaps he has a sister too,” was the thought that 
sent Ross Holland into that midnight sea, and God’s hand 
drew him out and set him on the steamer again, — him 
and Duke Walbridge. 

Ross Holland went to the Walbridges that evening a 
little against his will. In the first place, nothing em- 
barrassed him more painfully than any talk over what he 
had done that night. It made a glow of grateful pleas- 
ure about his heart to know how Duke felt over it ; for, 
shy and reticent as Ross was by nature, something had 
drawn him toward the young man, just as he had never 
been drawn to any human being before. 


34 


THE HOLLANDS. 


In the second place, he had an instinct that he should 
not like his friend’s family, or at least not be at ease 
among them. 

Perhaps Ross did not consciously admit this to 
himself; nevertheless, there the feeling lurked. He had 
learned during his stay in the town that the Walbridges 
were wealthy, ambitious people, and this, with some 
other careless remarks, had given him a little insight into 
the family quality, and he shrank from it. 

However, there was no way of declining the invitation 
except by hurting his friend. Ross was to return that 
night to New York, and he consoled himself, remember- 
ing that the dinner must be a short one. 

Strange as it may seem, the Walbridges had their 
secret embarrassments too, — the elder members of the 
family at least, the younger ones being quite too eager 
with curiosity for anything of that sort. 

Mr. and Mrs. Walbridge desired to do what was 
proper, and to be expected of them under the circum- 
stances ; but the trouble seemed to be to find out just 
what that was. 

Here they were, under overwhelming obligations to 
the young man who had rescued their son from drowning, 
and there was no way of cancelling the tremendous debt. 
All their wealth could not do it. Nay, it would he an 
unpardonable insult to suggest money in connection with 
such a deed. 

It was a most delicate and difficult matter to deal with ; 
but there, like a great many other uncomfortable facts, 
it stood. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


35 


Great a sensation as Ross Holland certainly made, 
when he presented himself at the Walbridges, there was 
nothing very remarkable about him ; a moderately good- 
looking, quiet youth, not lacking a certain self-possession, 
if he Rd color easily to the roots of his hair. 

The girls watched with a great deal of eagerness the 
meeting between their brother and his preserver. 

“ I do believe,” said Eva, afterward, in talking it all 
over to her sisters, “ that they would have hugged each 
other like girls, if we hadn’t been present.” 

Mr. Walbridge, to whom his son presented Ross, made 
a speech on the occasion, expressing his deep sense of the 
obligations under which he lay to the preserver of his 
son’s life ; but the man really would have felt much more 
comfortably when he got to the end of his remarks, if he 
could have taken a check in high figures from his pocket- 
book, placed it in Ross Holland’s hands, and said, 
“ There! that makes all square between us ! ” 

Then it came Mrs. Walbridge’s turn. That lady did 
her part in a manner becoming the occasion. When did 
she ever do otherwise ? No doubt there was some real 
feeling underlying the finely rounded phrases, fitting into 
each other like a mosaic. 

When she came to stand face to face with the youth, 
without whom the strength and pride of her household 
must have been lying stark and cold in his unfathomable 
ocean grave, and her own heart desolate with an unutter- 
able anguish, no doubt the mother for a moment almost 
overmastered everything else in the feeling of the woman. 
Her voice swayed, the tears slipped into her eyes, she 


36 


THE HOLLANDS. 


grasped the hand of Ross Holland in both her own, and 
her pretty speech was not finished just as she had con- 
templated. 

Afterward, the introductions to the sisters were easily 
gotten over. All the young ladies were disposed to be 
cordial to their brother’s friend. 

Still, Mr. and Mrs. Walbridge felt, I think, a little 
sense of relief when so much of the programme was gone 
through with. Perhaps it was not altogether unnatural. 
No matter how superficially one regards human nature, 
one cannot help perceiving that this gratitude is a difficult 
thing to deal with. Those who are largely entitled to it 
generally regard themselves as wronged and neglected. 
No doubt there is a great deal of truth in it ; but there 
is something to be said on the other side. A burden of 
obligation is apt to press heavily on the recipient, and 
give him a certain sense of discomfort, unless there is a 
very fine sense of sympathy between him and his bene- 
factor. This is, perhaps, not oftenest the case. The 
people who are the most generous in gifts have not always 
the finest instincts, the broadest natures. They may be 
ready to lavish gifts on you with one hand, and take a 
pleasure sometimes — so full of inconsistencies is human 
nature — in chafing you where you are weakest and 
most sensitive. 

Now, no kindnesses can grant one indemnity for the 
other wrong. There will only be secret chafing and in- 
dignation, if not open revolt, all aggravated by the sense 
of obligations ; for a blow falls doubly heavy from hands 
that have bestowed much on us. A man may give yon 


THE HOLLANDS. 


87 


all his possessions, may risk his life to save yours, and 
yet in the closest sense you cannot call him friend. 

I appeal to your own consciousness, my reader, whether 
this be not true, — whether the deepest love of your na- 
ture does not take its root in a soil that lies deeper than 
all gifts, — whether any claims of gratitude can ever com- 
pel your affection. But, for all that, a lofty and finely 
tempered heart forgets much in those who have served it 
— keeps faith with itself in grateful loyalty to its bene- 
factor. 

Boss Holland was the only stranger at the Walbridge 
dinner-table that day. The hostess had some internal 
misgivings about her guest’s being equal to the mysteries 
of finger-glasses and nut-pickers ; but she soon satisfied 
herself that Boss was at home here ; and really, when 
you came to compare them, he had quite as much the 
look and bearing of a gentleman as her own son, neither 
being an Adonis in face or figure. 

There was, however, a natural refinement in the Hol- 
land blood, which the last who bore the name had inher- 
ited, — some native instinct of the boy and girl always 
shrinking from coarseness and vulgarity as from some- 
thing whose touch soiled and defiled. 

Anything so ambitious as the Walbridges’ style of liv- 
ing was, of course, quite new to Boss, and the ceremonial 
was a little embarrassing to one unaccustomed to it. 

But Duke sat next to his friend, and there was a mag- 
netism in the young man that, when he chose to exert it, 
would thaw almost any nature into life and ease. He 
and Boss were soon launched on a full tide of talk, the 


38 


THE HOLLANDS. 


others listening, complacent and curious, and inter- 
spersing their own remarks. 

Through all this, Mrs. Walbridge, it must be con- 
fessed, felt a strong desire to know something of the char- 
acter and position of the stranger at their board, who 
had established his right there so clearly, and whom no 
amount of courtesies and patronage could place in any 
relation but that of creditor. Mrs. Walbridge was, of 
course, quite too well bred to be inquisitive. Still, 
there were plenty of proper and natural questions to ask, 
which might serve as chinks through which she could 

o o 

get a glimpse into the antecedents of Ross Holland. 
When the fruits were brought on, she attempted one of 
these crannies. 

“I think your family must be very reluctant to let- 
ting you go off on this long journey, Mr. Holland. I sup- 
pose, however, they regard it best to indulge a young 
man’s desire to see all sides of the world. The expe- 
rience has its advantages too.” 

The young men had been talking, sometimes soberly, 
sometimes merrily, with each other. Now the light in 
Ross Holland’s face went down suddenly. 

“ 1 have no family to regret my going, ma’am, except 
one sister, the last that is leftrof our kin.” 

“Oh, dear! how can she let you go?” put in Eva, 
who sat on the other side of Ross. “If it was Duke, 
now, I couldn’t part with him, no matter if he could see, 
as mamma says, every side of the world.” 

Now, if the truth must be told, Ross Holland was sore 
over his family history. It was not singular perhaps 


THE HOLLANDS. 


39 


That long struggle with poverty could not fail to leave 
its mark upon a sensitive nature. 

Yet the morbidness was not of an ignoble sort. Ross 
Holland’s face flushed, hut a kind of brave scorn looked 
out of his eyes now. “ I am not going to see the world,” 
he said. “ I would not leave my sister alone here for all 
it can hold. We are very poor, and I go to the East In- 
dies solely with the hope of making a little money.” 

The words made a sensation at the table. People were 
not in the habit of talking in just that way at the Wal- 
bridge board. But, whatever Ross might say, they could 
not take exceptions, as they might in the case of ordi- 
nary guests. Their relations and his were anomalous, 
and placed him in a large sense above criticism. 

A little silence followed, during which Mr. Walbridge 
said to himself, “Was that a hint now, forme to put 
my hand in my pocket and take out something substan- 
tial ? ’ 5 Then he met the eyes of his guest, and some 
heat that blazed in them satisfied the gentleman that no 
purpose of that sort had ever entered the soul of Ross 
Holland. 

The truth was, that young man had an instinct of the 
estimation in which poverty was held by the people 
around him, and it was this that had forced out his ac- 
knowledgment of it. A brave soul, you see, whatever 
its faults were. 

However it might have been in ordinary cases, the 
Walbridges treated Ross with more attention, if possible, 
after the avowal, on his part, of poverty. There was 
little time for further talk, as it was necessary Ross 


40 


THE HOLLANDS. 


should leave almost as soon as dinner was over, in order 
to reach the train, while Duke insisted on driving his 
friend over to the depot in his father’s buggy. 

Those blooming girls in their fine dresses had not af- 
fected Ross altogether pleasantly. It forced up a strong 
contrast between them and his little sister Jessamine. 
After all, she was prettier and just as ladylike, with her 
soft, quiet manners. He had never seen her in anything 
finer than a white dress, with a flower or a bit of bright- 
colored ribbon in her hair. “ He should like to get 
some grand clothes on her,” — smothering down a sigh. 

Then he remembered the hundred-dollar check that 
would be on its way to her before the next sun had set, 
snugly folded away in the letter he had been writing her 
all day in his thoughts. lie saw the fair face breaking 
up into wonder and smiles and tears over it. 

After all, the grand dinner had been a great bore, that 
good fellow, Duke, being the only really pleasant thing 
about it, — these thoughts drifting across his mind while 
he was going through his adieux with the Walbridges. 

The elders were particularly cordial and lavish of good 
wishes for his future welfare, — “ very fine speeches,” 
Ross thought them afterward, for the youth had a slight- 
ly cynical way of putting things to himself, although un- 
derlying this little “ tortuous rind ” of bitterness was a 
sound mellow core of good nature, — and the young 
ladies beamed their brightest parting smiles upon him. 

Mr. Walbridge took the address of the house with 
which Ross was to be connected in the East Indies, and 
informed the young man that any indirect influence 


THE HOLLANDS. 


41 


which he might possess with its heads should be exerted 
in his behalf. — one of those fine, vague promises which 
serve the moment, and so seldom amount to anything. 

The pleasantest thing about the whole visit was, how- 
ever, the last that happened. Just as Ross was leaving 
the room, Eva Walbridge hurried in from the conserva- 
tory with a couple of moss-roses in her hand, — all dewy 
bloom and fragrance. The child hurried eagerly up to 
Ross. “I’ve just cut them from my bush for you,” she 
said. “ There were no more on it ; but I wanted to give 
them to you for Duke’s sake ; and — and — I thought 
you might like to keep them, and some time when you 
looked at them away off in that other part of the world, 
you’d know I hadn’t forgotten what you did for my 
brother.” 

The eyes of Ross Holland warmed on the girl, as they 
had only warmed on her brother that day. ‘ 1 Thank 
you,” he said, taking the flowers. “ 1 shall keep them 
carefully among my few treasures, and when they are 
faded and withered, they will be beautiful in my eyes, be- 
cause, you know, they will be the flowers of home.” 

Then he wept aw T ay. 

Mr. and Mrs. Walbridge felt relieved now it was over, 
and yet not just satisfied with themselves. It seemed as 
though they ought to have done something more or bet- 
ter if they had only known how. 

“ Really, my dear, that was very thoughtful and 
pretty, — giving the young man those flowers ; alto- 
gether proper and graceful.” 

“ 0 mamma! I never thought of being proper or 
4 


42 


THE HOLLANDS. 


graceful. I only wanted to give him something that T 
loved, because of what he had done for us all,” an- 
swered the youngest of the Walbridges. 

“ What did you think of him, on the whole, Edith ? ” 
asked another of the sisters, the elder’s gauge of people 
being regarded as final in the family. 

“ There’s no fault to find with his appearance or man- 
ners, as I know of ; yet I somehow had a feeling all the 
time, that he was not used to the best society.” 

“ 0 Edith ! how angry Duke would be to hear you 
criticise him in that way! ” said Eva. 

“ His saving Duke’s life is one thing, and his breed- 
ing is another. I can’t see what possible connection 
there is between them,” answered the young lady, with 
the air of one who perfectly understood what she was 
talking about. 

“ But,” answered Eva, who manifested, at times, a 
little of Duke’s uncomfortable tenacity of conviction, 
“ it does not, after all, seem quite generous and noble to 
criticise the preserver of Duke’s life, just as one would 
any stranger, — do you think so, mamma? ” 

Thus appealed to, Mrs. Walbridge hardly knew what 
to say, so she compromised the matter. “ When you are 
a little older, my dear, you will see the matter as Edith 
does. She means perfectly right, and so do you.” 

Eva looked grave a moment, trying to discern the truth 
through the mist in which her mother’s speech enveloped 
the matter. She did not succeed very well, and there was 
no help for it, but to fall back on the future years which 
were to make both sides seem right to her. Suddenly 


THE HOLLANDS. 


48 


the girl’s face brightened : “I thought it was real 
noble in that young fellow to own right up, in that out- 
spoken way, that he was poor, and going off to the ends 
of the world to make a fortune for himself and his sis- 
ter. I know Duke liked it, too, by the way his eyes 
sparkled.” 

“ Of course he did,” answered another of the girls, 
with a little laugh. “ Duke always likes outspoken in- 
dependence of that kind.” 

“Well, who doesn’t, with any sense?” asked Eva, 
in her blunt, girlish way. 

Nobody answered ; but the Walbridges were not quite 
certain whether they liked these qualities or not, and had 
a feeling, too, that it would not be to their credit to ad- 
mit the doubt. 

Meanwhile, the young men were on their way to the 
depot. Of a sudden Duke gathered up the reins in one 
hand and laid the other on his companion’s shoulder. 
( 1 My dear fellow, there is so much I want to say to you 
in these last moments, if I could only get at it.” 

“ Plunge right in then. That’s the way I do when I 
get stuck fast,” answered Ross, the gayety of his air and 
manner covering some graver feeling beneath it. 

“If I could only do something for you, — be of some 
service to you. Be generous now, Holland, and place 
yourself in my case. You’ve saved my life. That 
covers the whole ground of my debt, — the greatest 
one man can owe to another, and of course we’re both 
above looking at it in that light. Still, it’s a comfort to 
a fellow to do some favor to one who has received from 


44 


THE HOLLANDS. 


another what I have at jour hands, and I think it isn’t 
just generous to deny him that little crumb of pleasure.” 

“ My dear fellow, I’d give you the whole loaf, if it lay 
in my power.” 

“ It does, Holland. You can let me serve you some- 
how. You can find out some way. You know how 
eager I am to do this.” 

Ross looked up in the face of his companion, and 
caught the glow upon it, which lifted the face of Duke 
Walbridge into new life and beauty, as some sunsets do 
the clouds hanging dull and incoherent about a western 
sky, gathering them all up in one grand blaze of color. 

Ross mused a moment. “ There is one favor you can 
do for me, Walbridge.” 

“What is it?” asked Duke, with a kind of greedi- 
ness, which at almost any other time would have made 
Ross smile. 

“ There’s my sister, Jessamine, — it’s been like tearing 
the very heart out of her to give me up to go on this 
long journey, with all its risks, you know. If we should 
never see each other again — ” There he broke down a 
moment. 

“Anything, — ask anything for her of the life you 
saved, Holland.” 

Ross gathered up his voice, forced it into a kind of 
husky steadiness again. “ I should like you to be a sort 
of brother to her, — see that no harm comes to her. 
Poor thing ! she’s nobody in the world but me, — a shy, 
simple-hearted, loving child. It would break her heart 
if anything happened to me.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


45 


“ Holland, answer me one question,” said Duke, with 
a kind of solemn authority in his tones ; “ didn’t you 
think of your sister before you went overboard that 
night for me ? ” 

“Yes; I thought of her, — little Jessamine. And 
then I thought perhaps you, too, had a sister at home, 
and plunged in.” 

For a minute Duke did not speak. Then he added 
solemnly, as one who takes an oath on his soul, to be 
held through .all the after life, “ If anything comes to 
you, Holland, I will take your place, as far as I can, to 
your sister.” 

Ross smiled, — a smile Duke would never forget. “ I 
shall go off with a lighter heart now,” he said. 

“ I shall take it on myself, too, to go up and see your 
‘little Jessamine’ right off,” continued Duke, “ and tell 
her all that has happened.” 

Ross Holland’s first thought grasped eagerly at this 
offer ; but the second one convinced him that it would 
not be well for Jessamine to learn at once of the peril 
into which he had plunged. It would only fill the child’s 
heart with fresh forebodings and terrors. The hundred 
dollars would seem like a sudden fortune rained down 
upon her, and that would be surprise and delight enough 
for the present. So he answered Duke Walbridge, 
“ Just wait until I get safe and sound at the East Indies 
before you hunt her up, Walbridge. I’d rather she 
shouldn’t know just yet what we’ve gone through. You 
can do her more good, and me too, by waiting a few 
months before you go to see her. Meanwhile, I shall 


46 


THE HOLLANDS. 


feel as though I left my little Jessamine’ in your 
hands.” 

“ Jessamine, Jessamine. That is an odd name, — a 
pretty one too,” said Duke. 

“ It is more than that to me,” answered her brother. 

By this time they had reached the depot, and there 
were only a few moments to spare. They wrung each 
other's hands silently ; they thought of the long years 
and the wide oceans that were to roll betwixt them be- 
fore they should look upon each other’s faces again. 
There were tears in the eyes of both. 

The bell rang. Then these two — Duke Walbridge • 
and Ross Holland — did what Eva had said they would 
do if they had been women, — kissed each other, and with 
never a word more, each turned his own way. 

But Duke stood on the platform and watched the train 
which bore away the friend that he loved best on earth, 
— the friend who had risked his life to save his. 

Then he entered his carriage ; but, before he started 
for home, he wrote down in his note-hook the name of 
Jessamine Holland, and of the old country town where 
she resided. 

“Just as though I should forget it ! ” — smiling a little 
to himself as he slipped book and pencil back into his 
pocket. “ Little Jessamine ! I did not ask him; but 
she must be a child, — I fancy somewhere about Eva’s 
age.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


47 


CHAPTER IY. 

Three years and more had passed since Duke Wal- 
bridge and Ross Holland had parted at the depot. Dur- 
ing almost this entire period the former had been abroad. 
His father had suddenly discovered symptoms of apo- 
plexy, and the physicians had urged a sea-voyage for the 
gentleman. 

So it was suddenly settled that Duke should accom- 
pany his father, and complete his studies in Germany, 
while Mrs. Walbridge and Edith should make the grand 
tour of Europe. Mr. Walbridge’s health had improved, 
but his foreign business relations had detained him abroad 
longer than he anticipated. 

Duke had, however, outstayed all the others by nearly 
two years. He was of just that age when foreign study 
and travel are apt to turn young heads a little ; but his 
family affirmed that Duke had returned just as he went. 
They could not see that there was a particle of change 
in the fellow. He had grown a little taller and better 
looking, that was all. 

But here the family judgment was superficial. Duke’s 
growth was not on the surface ; but during these years 
his whole character had widened ; his thought, convic- 


48 


THE HOLLANDS. 


tions, modified and shaped themselves. Contact with the 
world, with people of varied civilizations and nationali- 
ties, had changed and broadened the young man ; but 
the sound, warm, steadfast nature held its own quality 
still. 

During this time he had kept up an intermittent cor- 
respondence with Ross Holland. The first year in the 
East Indies had not been very smooth 'ones to the young 
American. His health and habits did not readily adapt 
themselves to the foreign climate and modes of life. 
Still, Ross Holland’s soul was a brave one. It fought 
the battle valiantly with homesickness and languor, 
through two or three slow attacks of fever, among 
strange faces and the fiery heat of the tropics. 

Mismanagement, indolence, and extravagance had all 
borne their part in sapping the prosperity of the house 
with which he was engaged ; still, it had the substantial 
foundations of an old name and reputation to uphold it, 
and Ross did his part faithfully, as he would do it any- 
where. 

But his expenses were heavy in a foreign country, and 
his salary allowed him little margin beyond them and 
an occasional remittance to J essamine. 

During these years the girl has been just where we 
left' her, shut up in the homely old house whose rusty 
brown front faced the hills. What else could she do ? 
Jessamine Holland had no fortune, and no influential 
friends. With the natural right of her youth the girl 
hungered, fairly sickened, sometimes, for a life less 
cramped and monotonous ; for some color, excitement ; 


THE HOLLANDS. 


49 


but it did not come, and so Jessamine settled herself to 
make the best of what she had, which is the truest phi- 
losophy for the wisest of us. 

The copying, too, whose remuneration the girl fondly 
hoped would defray most of the expenses of her board, 
had largely disappointed her, affording her employment 
only at long intervals, so that she was obliged to fall 
back largely on the remittances of Ross, which it cost 
her high spirit a good many struggles to do. 

But Jessamine told herself, with that innate vigor 
that some far dead ancestor had probably bequeathed her, 
that she was not going to rust out. It was lonely and 
desolate enough, — only her own soul and God knew 
that,— with her brother so far off, and she left stranded in 
the old town with nothing to do. There was a great 
world beyond, where she would like to take her part, — 
be of some service; but its walls were high, and she 
could not find a chink to creep through. Then, weary 
as she was of the old town, she loved it, for it was her 
birthplace; and though the people were of the nar- 
row, conventional type, which one is too apt to find in 
remote country towns, with little elevating social stimu- 
lus, or breadth of thought or heart amongst them, 
still they were the faces and friends of the girl’s child- 
hood and youth, — all she ever had at least, for the 
Hollands had mostly dropped out of such society as the 
old town afforded. So the girl had buried herself in her 
studies. There was a moderately good library in the 
town, and from this, and from various other sources, she 
managed to obtain most of the books she needed. 


50 


THE HOLLANDS. 


It was no dilettante work with this girl either. Sho 
made a solemn purpose of it, and studied like any school- 
girl, setting herself no light tasks, and conscientiously 
fulfilling them, mastering Latin with the help of the 
clergyman, and plunging as deeply into natural sciences, 
metaphysics, and history as her opportunities afforded. 

It was, perhaps, a little too much the life of a book- 
worm for a girl in the blossoming of her years ; but then 
it was the salt which saved J essamine Holland from the 
frivolity and gossip of the little town ; and mind and 
heart ripened together, and in the furrows of those slow, 
silent days, she cast seed that brought forth their fair 
harvest in the womanhood to come. 

Then Jessamine fed her young soul through all this 
time on the letters of Ross. These always turned the 
brightest side of his lot towards her, never abating heart 
or hope, and were vital with that brave courage which 
was the very marrow of his character. 

So there came an afternoon when Jessamine Holland 
stood again on the veranda of the rusty brown cottage, 
as she had, almost four years ago, when she watched, 
white and breathless, for the train as it disappeared in 
the hollow. But it was not October now, and the year 
had no hint of chill or death in it. It was a J une day, 
one of a cluster that had gone over the earth in golden 
pomp, dying in nights of starry splendor. But at this 
time the loneliness, the homesick ache seemed to have 
eaten deeper into Jessamine’s soul than ever before. 
The singing of the birds, all the pomp and glory of 
the summer, failed to lift her out of the darkness into 


THE HOLLANDS. 


51 


their own mood of joy and strength. She had a kind of 
hunted feeling, like one who sees the walls close in on 
every side, and pants for fresher air and wider horizons. 
What was she in God’s world, stranded there in that old 
house, with people whose kindly thought and care of 
her did not give them any wide sympathy into her moods 
and needs ? It seemed to the girl sometimes that the 
chafing and the aching would drive her mad. Do not 
blame her. Think what her life was, and how long and 
bravely she had borne it. 

She wore a white dress this afternoon, — remembering 
how fond Ross was of seeing her in that, — a bit of blue 
ribbon at her throat. When he was a boy he always 
admired that color too, and she had broken off two or 
three red roses from a bush on one side of the house, and 
twisted them in her hair, smiling a little to herself. As 
she surveyed the whole in the mirror, the smile, however, 
drowned itself suddenly in bitterness. “As though 
there was anybody in the world would care how you 
looked this day, J essamine Holland ! Ross would, but 
he can’t see across all these leagues of land and 
ocean.” 

Then she went out on the veranda, trying to find some- 
thing in that J une day, remembering that God had set 
it in the world as a sign and token of his love and bounty • 
but just then how far off he seemed ! Yet she stood there 
in her sweet, delicate youth, looking the lady that she 
was by gift of that same God. 

She heard the gate. She remembered afterward that 
she was too listless even to look out and see, through 


52 


THE HOLLANDS. 


the curtain of climbing vines, who was coming, taking it 
for granted it was some neighbor or child on an errand. 

So she did not look up until the stranger stood on the 
steps. The girl gave a little start then, her cheeks 
flushed, and at the moment J essamine Holland probably 
looked prettier than she ever had done in her life before. 

A gentleman stood there, — she knew he w T as that with 
the first glance, — in a brown travelling suit, a good 
deal dusted. He lifted his hat. “Will you be kind 
enough,” said a voice, so clear and pleasant that one 
liked to hear it, 1 1 to tell me where Miss J essamine Hol- 
land, the sister of Ross Holland, resides?” 

J essamine was shy ; her temperament and life natu- 
rally made her so ; but for all that she held possession 
of herself. 

“I am Ross Holland’s sister,” she answered, her wide 
brown eyes on the stranger. 

Great, in turn, was Duke Walbridge’s surprise. His 
family were at the Springs, some thirty miles off, and the 
young man had remembered his promise to Ross, and kept 
faith with it at last. 

He had come up here to see the sister of his benefac- 
tor, with a general idea of a rosy, unformed country 
girl. He had debated in his own mind whether some toy 
would not be acceptable to “little Jessamine,” and had 
thought a pretty set of jewelry would probably dazzle 
the eyes of a school-girl. 

But the Springs, though they had a reputation, were 
in an out-of-the-way place, where jewelry of any sort 
was quite unattainable. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


53 


“ No matter. I can judge for myself, and get what is 
most appropriate afterward, ’ ’ — settling the matter, and 
not quite certain but a wax doll would prove the right 
thing after all. 

And this was “ little Jessamine/’ — this girl with the 
fair, delicate face, so unlike any he had ever seen before ; 
not the beauty, certainly, that strikes men in a crowd, but 
that had a power and meaning of its own. There she stood, 
among the vines, in her simple white dress, with the bits of 
color at her throat, — something with whom it was quite 
impossible to associate anything coarse or hoydenish, and 
her birthdays had not quite clasped their twentieth. 

The stranger smiled, and came closer now. “I am 
Duke Walbridge, Miss Holland. I hope I am welcome 
for your brother’s sake.” 

The girl gave her hand at that word, but there was no 
gleam of recognition at the name. She had evidently 
never heard of it. 

“Did he never tell you?” asked Duke, surprised 
enough in his turn. 

She shook her head. “ I never heard that name.” 

“It was like him never to speak of what he did, Miss 
Holland. I owe your brother more than I do any living 
man, for he once saved my life.” 

“ You ? — Ross did ? ” — the sweet face more amazed 
than ever. 

“Yes, Miss Holland. The dear, generous, lion-heart- 
ed fellow jumped into the sea one night, and dragged me 
out of it at the peril of his own life ; and I have come at 
last to tell you of it.” 


54 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Her face all alive now — “Hew was it? When was 
it?” — hardly knowing what she was saying in her 
eagerness. 

So Duke Walbridge began at the beginning, and told 
Jessamine the story as no other could have told it. He 
had a remarkable gift of expression, but if he had not 
owned this, the depth of his feeling must have given a 
wonderful power to his tale. 

One saw it all, — the wild night, the awful sea, the 
life going down into the hungry waves, the shouts of 
the men, and then the brave rescue. Jessamine lived it 
all over in a shuddering horror. It was quite soon 
enough for the tender heart to hear the story, nearly 
four years after it all happened. Ross had judged wise- 
ly. Once she caught hold of Duke’s arm, not realizing 
what she was doing. “ 0 Ross, my brother ! my brother ! 
if you had been drowned then ! ” — her face in a shower 
of tears. There were tears in Duke’s eyes. 

“ But he did not, you see, and here I am, with the 
life that he saved.” 

“I am glad of that, — glad that he went to you, only 
you cannot know what he is to me, — all I have on earth, 
and what life would be to me if I lost him.” 

There was a lounge at one end of the veranda. She 
went and sat down here a few moments, and Duke knew 
she was crying. He was almost sorry he had told her. 

But she came back in a little while, and asked him to 
go on with the rest. “ She’s got some of her brother’s 
pluck,” thought Duke Walbridge. But she swayed 
again when he came to tell her how Ross had said that he 


THE HOLLANDS. 


55 


drew back at that awful time thinking of 1 1 little J essa- 
mine.” 

The rest of his story, however, was easy sailing. Duke 
told the girl about her brother’s visit at their house, and 
their talk at parting, and the promise he had made, and 
why he had been so long in fulfilling it. 

After this, all ice of formalities, such as requires, in 
ordinary cases, a good many interviews to melt, vanished 
betwixt these two. 

Duke Walbridge had one of those natures that never 
forgets its gratitude. The memory of the vast debt he 
owed would alone have made the sister of Ross Holland, 
whatever might be her intrinsic character, an object of 
keen interest to Duke, — one whose welfare and happiness 
he would have been eager to promote at almost any cost to 
himself; but he had come utterly unprepared to find the 
girl what, the more he saw of her, she proved to be. 
The more he saw of her, too, the more she perplexed 
him, by the sweet, genuine frankness and grace of her 
speech and manner. “ As much better than the showy, 
artificial girls he met in society,” he said to himself, “ as 
a wide, fresh morning heath shaken with # dew, and full 
of fragrance and the gladness of sunshine, was better 
than all the perfume and glitter and display of some 
splended drawing-room.” 

She was like her brother, too, in a good many little 
subtle ways, difficult to analyze, and yet very readily 
felt. 

How the girl could live there in that out-of-the-way 
nlace, shut up in a kindly but wholly uncultivated fam- 


56 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ily, and be the instinctive lady she was, puzzled Duke 
Walbridge more than anything had ever done in his life. 
The more he talked with her, the more she interested 
him; and, if the truth must be told, Jessamine Holland 
never had looked and appeared quite so well as she did 
this afternoon. 

When she came to think it over after Duke had gone, 
the whole thing seemed like a dream. He called her 
“ little Jessamine,” and then apologized several times, 
corrected himself, and said, “ Miss Holland.” But the 
other name was sure to come first ; and at last he said, 
with a laugh," “ There is no use; I have thought of 
you so long as £ little Jessamine,’ that no other name 
will come to me without an especial effort.” 

And Jessamine answered, and wondered and scolded 
at herself afterward for doing it, “Do not try to. It 
is the old name that I have not heard since he went 
away, and it sounds pleasanter than the first robin’s song 
did when I heard it last May.” 

Their talk went a great many ways. Duke Walbridge 
had that reverence for womankind that I think is born 
in the soul of every true man ; but, for all that, his ideas 
of young ladies had been shaped more or less by his sis- 
ter’s acquaintances, and he had a kind of feeling, which 
his fidelity to his ideal of womanhood had always pre- 
vented his expressing, that girls were, as a whole, super- 
ficial, gossipy, selfish. Anything really frank, loyal, 
genuine, it seemed to him he had yet to find among the 
young girls with whom he was thrown, with their foolish 
rivalries of dress and social distinction. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


57 


Even to these there was a better side ; but Duke did 
not find it ; partly , no doubt, because he did not try, 
being in a state of disgust with young ladyhood in 
general. Indeed, his strictures here were so wholesale 
and bitter, that his sisters did not hesitate to call him a 
bear, and to avow their belief that, “Duke was bom to 
be an old bachelor. ” 

But here was a young girl who had no airs, who 
evidently had not the faintest notion how to carry on a 
flirtation, with all the charm, brightness, spontaneity of 
earnest, intelligent young womanhood. How alert she 
was, too ! how full of eager curiosity about the great 
world which he had seen ! her questions slipping out in 
a soft, breathless, child-like way, that amused him. Once 
through, she stopped of a sudden, the bright color com- 
ing into her face as it had a habit of doing. “ Do for- 
give me,” she said ; “ but it seems as though I was talk- 
ing with Ross.” 

“ I want it to seem just so. You know what I prom- 
ised him.” And he went on, taking up the thread of 
his talk where he had left it, telling her all about his sail 
down the Rhine, through the golden girdle of just such 
a week of J une days last year. 

“ I wonder how you manage to live here, ‘ little Jessa- 
mine ’ ?” Duke really spoke to himself, and wished he 
could call the thought back the next moment. 

A swift pain flashed into the girl’s face. “ It is very 
hard sometimes. It seems as though it must kill me ; 
but I don’t think God will let it come to that ; and when 
the worst happens, I try to brave myself against the 


58 


THE HOLLANDS. 


thought of the time when Ross will come back, and we 
shall be together once more.” 

Just then they caught, faint and far off among the 
hills, the sound of the coming train. There was only- 
time for Duke to reach the depot; and he had an en- 
gagement with his sisters that night. 

“ Next time — fori intend to come again — I shall 
stay longer, Miss Holland, and meanwhile, I shall take a 
brother’s privilege, to write you.” 

And her answer was like herself : “ When you come, 

you shall be welcome, — either yourself or your letter.” 

She walked down to the gate with him, and watched 
him as he went away ; and long after he was out of sight 
she still stood there, rubbing her eyes, and wondering 
whether his coming and his going, and all the story of 
Duke Walbridge, had not been a dream. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


59 


CHAPTER Y. 

Duke Walbkidge had something on his mind. In 
fact, this had been the case with him for several days, 
ever since he had received a letter with a foreign post- 
mark on it, in reply to one which he had written to Ross 
Holland. Not that Duke regretted the letter which he 
had sent to his friend, but he had a purpose to carry out, 
and this involved a good many delicate relations and 
feelings on the part of others ; and, although he was the 
prime mover in the matter, his own position must, in the 
very nature of the case, be a subordinate one. 

The real truth was, Duke did not feel quite certain of 
the human nature with which he must accomplish his 
work. Most people have to take this into account in all 
their dealings with each other ; and Duke, like the rest 
of us, had to make the best of his materials. 

These last reflections passed through his mind, — he 
had a quaint, humorous habit of putting things to him- 
self, like a good many thoughtful, reticent natures, — 
while there was just a hint of a smile upon his lips as he 
looked from one member of his family to the other. He 
did not know it, much less did they ; but he was weighing 
each in the balance, and something seemed wanting. 


60 


THE HOLLANDS. 


This plan of his furnished a kind of touchstone, and 
before it the quality of parents and sisters seemed some- 
how to fail the son and brother. 

Duke sat there, his book on his knee, a paper-cutter 
between the leaves, which he took up and played with 
every few minutes in an absent kind of way. Plainly, 
he was in no mood for reading ; and Duke’s silences and 
little eccentricities were an accepted fact in the family, 
to be made the subject of good-natured criticism and 
merry jest, oftenest to his face. 

His sisters had been to a millinery opening that after- 
noon, and were eloquent over the new styles. One of 
the girls had been particularly fervid in her description 
to the less favored of her sisters of a hat which had par- 
ticularly attracted her fancy. She concluded her account 
of the arrangement of flowers, plumes and ribbons, with, 
— “0 girls, it was such a love of a bonnet ! ” 

“ Gertrude,” said Duke, with a flash of emphatic dis- 
gust in his face and voice, “ don’t ever use that ex- 
pression again. It is suited to the lips of only a silly, 
frivolous, affected woman. If I should once hear that 
remark, I should never want to turn and look at the 
woman who made it. I should know there must be 
something weak or wrong in her head or heart.” 

“ Who ever thought you were listening, you old book- 
worm?” said Gertrude, more amused than provoked. 
“ This is the first time you’ve spoken for half an hour, 
and now you’re like a bear coming out of your den, and 
shaking yourself with a growl.” 

Gertrude was next to Edith. She had her full sha*e 


THE HOLLANDS. 


61 


of the family good looks ; a graceful, stylish girl, with the 
bright bloom of her race. 

The other girls laughed ; but Duke would never hear 
that speech again in his household. His own family 
paid a certain tacit deference to his notions, having an 
instinct that there was something right and sound at the 
bottom of them. 

There was a lull in the buzz of voices. The millinery 
and its collateral subjects had been pretty thoroughly 
exhausted. Then Duke went over to his mother, and 
stretched his limbs on the lounge by her chair. 

“ Mother — ” He stopped there ; he wished it was out 
and over, he could hardly tell why. 

“ Well, my son.” 

Perhaps she spoke that name a little oftener, because, 
of all the world, she could only use it to this odd Duke, 
of whom she was very fond, and in many ways very 
proud, and in some a little afraid. 

1 £ I’ve heard you say, you and all the girls, that you 
would be glad enough to light upon some plan of proving 
that you remembered gratefully what Ross Holland did 
for me one night.” 

“ Yes, Duke. I never felt quite easy about the way 
we let that matter rest ; neither, I think, did your father ; 
but there seemed no help for it.” 

“ It strikes me that I have found a way in which you 
could properly and delicately express that you held in 
grateful remembrance that grand deed of his.” 

“How is that, Duke?” Mrs. Walbridge’s manner 
show T ed no lack of interest. 


62 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“ You could invite his sister to pass the holidays, or 
the winter, with us. She is all alone, as I told you, shut 
up in that country-house, and I know it would do her 
good to see something of the world. I think you owe 
the girl so much attention as this ; and that anybody who 
knew the circumstances would wonder you had not 
thought of showing her some courtesy, — provided my 
life was of much value to you.” 

This speech would have proven, to a shrewd observer, 
that Duke Walbridge was not deficient in diplomatic 
ability ; although, at present, he had no wider scope than 
his mother’s drawing-room. He certainly had set the 
whole matter before her in a light most likely to influ- 
ence Mrs. Walbridge. 

“I never thought of that before, Duke. I am not 
certain but this is a bright idea of yours. Still, I should 
like to turn the matter on all sides.” 

“ I can’t see that it has more than one ; but, I suppose, 
it is natural that, as my life was saved, I should take a 
stronger interest in the matter than any of the rest of 
you.” 

Was that some of Duke’s “ irony ” ? Mrs. Wal- 
bridge was not quite certain. The whole subject was 
one about which she felt a little uncomfortable ; in short, 
not quite as secure of the ground which she occupied as 
she did of the most of her relations with all mankind. 

11 What are you and Duke talking about? ” asked one 
of the girls, with a natural hankering for a secret. 

“On a little private suggestion of your brother’s, — • 
that is all. Go on with your nonsense, girls.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


63 


Mrs. Walbridge’s speech had just the effect of quieting 
the “nonsense” effectually. Girls in their teens have 
always a greediness for a mystery. 

“ 0 ma, do let us know now ! ” chimed several voices, 
while the group gathered about the lounge. 

Duke felt a little anxiety to learn how his sisters 
would receive the proposition ; for upon their secret com- 
plaisance with this plan must pivot J essamine Holland’s 
real pleasure in his household. 

“ Let the girls know it, mother. It concerns them as 
well as us.” 

Mrs. Walbridge was not unwilling to get the impres- 
sions of her daughters ; for, to tell the truth, she was 
herself dubious about. this plan of Duke’s. She was hos- 
pitably enough inclined. But, after all, there might be 
some inconveniences in receiving this stranger, who came 
with such claims to make good her place in the family. 

“ Well, then, Duke has just been proposing to me 
that we invite Miss Holland here for the holidays. He 
thinks it the proper thing to be done; and you know we 
have all felt that we owed her brother some further ex- 
pression of our gratitude. It strikes me that this atten- 
tion to the young man’s sister is the proper method 
of manifesting our feelings.” 

The girls looked at each other. It was a novel idea. 
They hardly knew, at first, how to entertain it. 

“ Of course she would have to go out with us, mam- 
ma? ” asked one of the daughters. 

“ Of course ; Miss Holland would be our guest, and we 
should treat her, under all circumstances, as such.” 


64 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“I’d like to see her, any way,” added one of the 
younger of the group. “ I was so interested when Duke 
returned from that runaway call of his while we were at 
the Springs.” 

They had all been this, for that matter ; making him 
go over and over with his description of J essamine Hol- 
land’s looks and manners, while the young man had sus- 
tained, with rather unusual amiability, a ceaseless round 
of questions. It was remarkable, the interest and curi- 
osity which Jessamine Holland had created in the Wal- 
bridge family ; and, somehow, Duke’s replies to all their 
questioning rather stimulated than allayed the feeling. 
It was Edith’s turn to speak now. Her opinion would 
weigh heavily in either scale. 

“I’m not sure, mamma, but it is about the best thing 
we can do. So much depends, though — ” 

“ Well, go on, my dear.” 

“ We have so many engagements for the holidays, and, 
of course, Miss Holland would always accompany us. 
We should want somebody who was nice, and presentable, 
and all that, and sufficiently used to society to show no 
particular gaucherie .” 

“ But Duke says she’s a real lady.” 

“•One of Nature’s making,” added another of the 
sisters. 

The Walbridges, however, were not absolutely certain 
about the quality of that stamp. They had an idea that 
the best society was a necessity to the perfection of lady- 
hood. 

“ Duke is the one to know, as he has seen the young 


THE HOLLANDS. 


65 


lady ; and, even if she were not au fait in all social mat- 
ters, she would soon learn whatever was necessary,” gra- 
ciously added the mother. 

“ I don’t think you need have any trouble on that 
account,” answered Duke, m his most frigid tones. 

The subject, once started, did not die easily. It was 
discussed, on all its sides, by the feminine Walbridges; 
and, on the whole, the more the invitation was agitated 
the more they inclined toward it. 

Mrs. Walbridge did not say , but she reflected that if 
Miss Holland should prove herself an awkward, uncul- 
tivated girl, the gentility of the Walbridges would by no 
means be affected by her propinquity ; for it would be 
easy enough to have the matter thoroughly understood 
in their set, and the claims which Miss Holland had on 
their gratitude. This thought made her, secretly, more 
inclined to the invitation. 

As for Duke, he listened, for the most part, silent- 
ly. The current was setting in the way he had desired, 
and, in fact, foreseen ; but the whole tone of the conver- 
sation grated on him. It seemed to have a hard worldli- 
ness about it, that half irritated, half saddened him. Yet 
these women were dearer to him than any other in the 
world, — they were his mother and his sisters, — and 
he wished he had not been born with that faculty for div- 
ing down through the surface of things into purposes 
and motives. 

“After all, were not all women like these? If they 
were, he, Duke Walbridge, might as well make up his 
mind to remain a bachelor to the end of his days. There 
6 


66 


THE HOLLANDS. 


it was, cynical and bitter again; ” his thoughts hunting 
vaguely up and down, turning suddenly in sharp revenge 
on himself. 

When the matter had been as good as decided that 
Mrs. Walbridge should write the letter of invitation, for 
the winter, to Miss Holland, in which every member of 
the family was to join, — for if the Walbridges concluded 
to do the thing at all, there was no-doubt they would do 
it handsomely, — somebody suggested that perhaps the 
young lady might hesitate to come before informing her 
brother, as the compliment was, after all, indirectly to 
himself, and no exchange of letters could take place 
between New York and the East Indies before the holi- 
days, now at hand. 

It was Duke’s time to speak now. “ I forestalled all 
that. Before I left the Springs I just wrote to young 
Holland, relating my visit to his sister, and entreating, 
as*an especial favor to us all, that he would urge his 
sister to make this visit. You know he is not the sort 
of stuff that takes favors easily, and I had to feel my 
way cautiously. But I succeeded in getting the consent 
in hi£ reply ; given, though, I see clearly, with some in- 
ward doubt or reluctance. I suppose that, however, 
will not crop out in his note to his sister, which he 
encloses with mine, and which is to satisfy her about the 
propriety of this visit. I shall enclose hers with the 
invitation.” 

“ I cannot help thinking, Duke, that it would have 
been .wiser to consult us before you had proceeded so 
far in this matter. Circumstances might have made 


THE HOLLANDS. 


67 


it inconvenient to receive jour friend’s sister at this 
time.” • 

Mrs. Walbridge’s tone showed that ladj not very well 
pleased at this summary way of passing her over. 

“ I could hardly conceive of any circumstances strong 
enough to prevent a courtesy of this kind to one where I, 
at least, owe so much. In that case, however, I knew 
my friend, and could make it right with him ; so I con- 
sulted nobody.” 

“ It Vas just like one of Duke’s odd ways of doing 
things, mamma,” volunteered the youngest but one of 
the daughters ; and Mrs. Walbridge was obliged to be 
content with this explanation. 

After the matter had been settled, and Duke had 
gained his point, he went back to the table and his arm- 
chair ; still, he did not feel satisfied, as a man naturally 
would who has carried a delicate bit of diplomacy to a 
successful issue. A good many of those miserable doubts, 
which come to chill us all, after we have achieved some 
purpose on which we have strenuously set our minds, 
came now to harass Duke Walbridge. 

Would this visit of Jessamine Holland’s be really 
pleasant to her, after all ? Shy, sensitive, impressible, 
would she not feel the family atmosphere, and apprehend, 
if she did not comprehend, the observation and criticism 
of which she certainly would be the object? He had no 
fear on the score of attention and politeness ; but there 
was something that went deeper than that : would there 
be any generous and hearty warmth in welcoming to their 
home the fair and bewildered young stranger, setting her 


68 


THE HOLLANDS. 


at her ease, in the midst of the luxury and splendor, and 
giving her a sense of dropj^ng into some downy-lined 
nest of shelter and comfort ? Thinking these thoughts, 
Duke Walbridge gave a sudden blow with his foot to a 
small ottoman at his feet, and turned it over, — an ebulli- 
tion of the doubt and irritability that was in him. 

Eva noticed the movement. “ You pushed that over 
as though you were angry at somebody or something, 
Duke.” 

“ Perhaps I was at both a little,” — with that grim look 
on his face, which never came without something wrong 
lay beneath it. 

“Is it because Miss Holland is really to come and see 
us? ” asked Eva, trying a bit of joke. 

She had no answer. Duke turned and looked at his 
sister a moment, with that look peculiar to him, and that 
always went deeper than one’s face. 1 1 Are you glad she 
is coming, Eva? ” he asked, at last. 

“Why, yes; I’m delighted, Duke. Aren’t you?” 

“ I’m not certain.” 

“ Why, I thought you’d quite set your heart on it, 
and was the prime mover in the whole affair.” 

“ That doesn’t prevent my being doubtful whether it 
is a wise experiment, — whether the sister of my friend 
will really enjoy herself among us.” 

“ Why, how can she help it ? ” asked Eva, as though 
the family hospitality was somehow attacked. “ I’m 
sure we shall do all we can to make it pleasant for her.” 

“ Yes ; but you know we are peculiar people, Eva.” 

“ Peculiar ! How do you mean, Duke ? ” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


69 


“ We’re very polite and genteel people ; and no doubt 
we shall do all that is proper ; but I think, too, we shall 
be a little patronizing, and that Miss Holland will feel it ; 
and be chilled by it.” 

“ I think you are rather hard on your family, Duke,” 
said Eva ; but she said it as one upon whose mind a new 
light is beginning to dawn. 

“Well, doesn’t it strike you so, little sister ? ” — his 
look growing less grim. “ J ust think, now, for a moment, 
that you are in Miss Holland’s place, — a young girl, 
born and reared afar from cities, and shy as wood-bird3 
and fawns and all those pretty, graceful creatures ; but 
a lady, one of Nature’s making to the core. Now, just 
imagine yourself suddenly launched out upon a new life, 

• — a timid, lonely girl, among people whom you had 
never seen before, — would the handsome house, would all 
the formal civilities, satisfy your heart? Wouldn’t that 
want something more to put warmth and ease into it? ” 

“ Yes, it would, Duke.” 

“ And supposing you should feel all the time that the 
people among whom you had fallen were watchful, ex- 
acting, critical ; that, when your back was turned, they 
discussed you with a well-bred pity and contempt for 
any little local breach of etiquette of which you might 
be guilty ; though a lady, mind, I say, in all essentials, 
would you be really at ease and happy, — would you 
ever feel quite yourself, — wouldn’t there be a lurking 
loneliness and homesickness in the midst of all the 
splendor ? ” 

Eva drew a long breath. “ I think there would be, 


70 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Duke ; but then I never supposed we were people of that 
sort. Why, mamma would be quite shocked.” 

“Very likely; but aren’t the facts on my side? 
Mamma’s girls are so very genteel, that their hearts 
have taken an awful chill, as their toes do sometimes in 
their dainty slippers.” 

Eva laughed, as a girl woqld be likely to, over this 
conclusion, but she saw some precious marrow of truth 
hidden deep in the jest. 

“ Mine haven’t, either toes or heart,” thrusting out her 
foot, and displaying a handsome kid walking-boot. “ I 
see what you mean, Duke ; and I shall do my part to 
make Miss Holland feel real happy and at home with us. 
I’ll leave mamma and the girls to do the politeness ; but 
she shall feel my heart is in my welcome.” 

Duke smiled down on the girl now. “ That is my 
brave little sister ! ” he said. “ I like to hear you speak 
like that, Eva.” 

“ And then, just think, Duke, what we owe Miss Hol- 
land through her brother. Where would you, where 
would we all, have been at this time, if his heart or cour- 
age had failed him once? ” 

“ There is not a day of my life, Eva, in which I do 
not say this to myself.” 

Eva drew closer to the young man, with a swift sort 
of caressing movement, as though the old terror of Duke’s 
drowning moment came over her again. “Well, you 
are here, Duke ; and oh ! when Miss Holland comes 
won’t I do everything to make her feel just as happy and 
easy as she would in her own home, and prove to her 


THE HOLLANDS. 


71 


what a heart of gratitude I have, because her brother 
saved mine ! ” 

“That’s my darling, noble little Eva ! ” And the 
glance of his gray, clear eyes, with the wonderful light 
which they held only at rare times, shone full upon the 
girl’s face ; and in his thought, Duke Walbridge from that 
time depended more for Jegsamine Holland’s real happi- 
ness on his young sister, who was regarded a mere baby by 
the .rest of the family, than he did on his lady mother, 
or her elegant eldest daughter. 

The next day the letter of invitation was written, — a 
model of its kind, — and it was cordial enough to satisfy 
even Duke. Each of the daughters added her name to 
the mother’s, and Mrs. Walbridge begged that Miss Hol- 
land would do her friends the honor to come as early and 
remain as long as possible; and out of her extreme 
graciousness, the lady even went so far as to add that, if 
Miss Holland had no travelling companion, she would her- 
self provide a cavalier for the occasion. 

“That means you, Duke,” said one of the girls, with 
a laugh, when the letter was read in family conclave. 

“ That was a happy thought, mother. I shall be 
ready on a moment’s warning.” 

After this, Jessamine Holland was a frequent subject 
of conversation and curiosity at the Walbridges. The 
girl little suspected all this, in the lonely cottage off 
there among the hills, her youth beating impatient wings 
against the walls which imprisoned it in on every side. 
The more they thought of the young stranger who was 
coming to be their guest, under circumstances so pecu- 


72 


THE HOLLANDS. 


liar, the more kindly disposed the Walbridges, old and 
young, felt toward her. 

Of bourse, in all this there was a patronizing element; 
but the Walbridges resolved that Miss Holland should 
be inducted into all that the city had to offer in social 
gayeties and unaccustomed splendor. 

Her appearance and manners were matters, too, of 
much curiosity, Edith condescending to hope that Miss 
Holland was a presentable young person. 

“But don’t you remember what Duke says about 
her? ” asked one of the sisters. “ I asked him if Miss 
Holland was stylish, and he said, ‘ She’s something a 
great deal better than that ; she’s a simple, ladylike girl. 
I only wish there were more just such in society.’ ” 

“ Oh, well,” replied Edith, “you can’t depend alto- 
gether on Duke’s statements in this matter. The girl 
would be likely to wear in his eyes some nimbus that 
ordinary mortals could not see, as she is the sister of Boss 
Holland.” 

“ Well, really, I don’t know as it is to be wondered 
at?,” spoke up another voice from the blooming group. 

And nobody answered. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


73 


CHAPTER VI. 

Jessamine Holla-nd stood by the kitchen window in 
the country house, and watched the first flakes of snow 
beating down througli the sharp air. It was only a 
squall, she knew by the looks of the sky overhead, 
where little cold gulfs of blue were constantly revealing 
themselves betwixt the gray bulks of cloud ; but she al- 
most wished that a long winter snow would set in, — one 
of the kind which would block up the roads, and thus 
make the journey to-morrow impossible. 

It was a large, homely room, that old kitchen ; but the 
light had a pleasant, cheery way of looking in through 
the small, old-fashioned windows, and Jessamine Hol- 
land gazed around the room now with a certain feel- 
ing of tender regret, as the time drew near foy her to 
leave it. That rusty-brown cottage was all the home which 
she had in the world, — the great world into which she 
was to be launched so soon ; a vast, vague world on whose 
threshold she stood now, with a sudden thrill, half of 
dread, half of fear. She heard the children outside shout- 
ing in the snow, — two round, stubbed, freckled-faced boys, 
for whom Jessamine had a certain affection. There was 
a third in the cradle ; a little bald-headed, fat, dimpled 
7 


74 


THE HOLLANDS. 


bit of humanity. By the cradle, in a small rocking- 
chair, intent over a small, blue flannel coat ’which she 
was finishing for one of the little urchins outside, sat a 
woman with a faded, anxious face, — one of the kind 
which grow r s old early. You saw at the first glance that 
her life had lain in narrow, toilsome grooves, out of which 
it would probably never be lifted. When the smile came 
out on the worn face, it showed a warm, honest heart be- 
neath it ; and into its warmest corner, years ago, Boss 
and J essamine Holland had found their way ; and there 
were some strength and tenacity in the woman’s tempera- 
ment, — you felt this in the way in which her right foot 
jogged the cradle, in the very tone in which she hummed 
her lullaby over her sleeping baby, — whatever got into 
this woman’s heart would be likely to stay there always. 

At last the humming voice stopped; there was no 
sound in the wide kitchen save the faint drawing of the 
thread through the fabric. The woman glanced at the 
figure by the window, — a quiet girl’s figure standing 
there, and yet it concentrated all the fine color and grace 
of the old kitchen in itself. 

“ Them flakes of snow won’t come to anything, Miss 
Jessamine. Wind isn’t the right way. You’ll have a 
good day to-morrow.” 

The woman had a rapid, somewhat downright way of 
speaking, like one accustomed to dealing with the stub- 
born facts of life ; her sentences short and to the point, 
clipping off the redundant conjunctions and prepositions. 
Her character had its angles as well as her talk. J essa- 
mine had tact enough to keep clear of the former. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


75 


She turned now. “ No, Hannah, I was not thinking 
of the storm, but of leaving you all here.” 

A softer look came into the worn face. It smoothed 
something there that was not just pleasant, — a little 
sharp, set line about the lips. 

“ You’ve been with us so long, child, that it’s hard to 
let you go ; only I know it’s for the best.” 

Jessamine came around now, and took her seat on a 
low stool just in front of the woman, and looked at her 
with those broad, clear eyes of hers, their brownish tint, 
like her hair, vanishing often in black shadows. “ Han- 
nah,” she said, “now the time has come to leave the old 
home here, I find I begin to dread this visit, and to shrink 
from the strange people I shall meet there. All my 
courage is oozed out of me. I’m just a baby instead of 
the woman I ought to be.” 

Hannah looked at the girl, — all the hard lines, all the 
little wintry sourness of her face disappearing in that 
look. “ Its no wonder that you dread it, child, going 
out so in the world all alone, among those strange, grand 
people ; but, for all that, the chance’s a great thing. 
I’ve seen for a long time that this wasn’t the place for 
you ; that it was hard enough for you to be shut up here 
in the heyday of your youth with us plain, common peo- 
ple. You needed something finer and better, and it’s 
been a long time coming to you.” 

Jessamine thought of the old, restless, chafing days. 
She did not want to draw back into their prison-houses 
again ; and yet the world was such a vast, crowded, aw- 
ful thing to her. She drew a long sigh, and then looked 


76 


THE HOLLANDS. 


up again, her face in a gravity which never comes to 
those who have not thought and sorrowed. 

11 One never can tell where impressions come from; 
but mine is strong enough to amount to a conviction, that 
these grand people, as you call the Walbridges, are cold 
and haughty. I’ve tried to get rid of the feeling, but it 
clings to me. It crops out, too, in Ross’s letter, — the 
darling fellow ! I can see, through all his urgency that 
I should make this visit, a certain doubt or reluctance ; 
a kind of desire to put me on my guard against some- 
thing, without alarming me, and thus prevent my going. 
His instincts are keen, as you well know, and Ross 
would not have written as he did if he had felt I was 
going into a kindly home-atmosphere, where any defi- 
ciencies of mine would be excused and overlooked ; he 
would not have said, 1 You will find the Walbridges 
very nice people, very elegant and refined, and all that ; 
but I think none of them resemble Duke, unless it is 
that little sister of his who gave me the roses.’ 

“ Now, Ross would never have written in that way, if 
he had not wanted, without seeming to do it, to prepare 
me, not only for an entirely new sort of life, but for peo- 
ple who would criticise closely the way in which I car- 
ried myself there.” 

“ Well, anyhow, you’re a lady ! ” said Hannah, look- 
ing at the girl affectionately. “ You always was, from 
the minute you was born.” 

A smile flashing through, and breaking up, for a mo- 
ment. all the gravity in a face gifted with a rare elo- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


77 


quence of expression, — “ Ah, Hannah, if everybody 
would only take that partial view of me ! ” 

“Everybody will, who has eyes, child; so don’t you 
trouble yourself if these grand people take on airs. 
They’d better think what would have happened to them 
if it hadn’t been for your brother.” 

Of course, Jessamine never would have said this, — 
never have “ put it ” so, even in her thoughts ; but there 
w r as a kernel of truth deep in the coarse rind of the 
words, which nobody could gainsay. 

“ I am sure Ross’s friend feels all he should on that 
matter, and his family must, or they would not have sent 
me this cordial invitation to visit them.” 

“I don’t see as they could do any less,” answered 
Hannah, in her sharp, decided way, which it was, often- 
times, not best to oppose. - 

She went on, in a softer voice, a few minutes later, 
laying down her work, and looking with a kind of ten- 
der seriousness into the face which sat opposite. 

“I’ve had it on my mind, of late, Miss Jessamine, 
child, that something’s going to happen to you. I don’t 
know how, but I’m certain it’s to come of this visit. 
Anyway, you’ll never come back to the old house as you 
went from it. You’ll have been into the great world, 
and looked with your own eyes on its pride and splen- 
dor ; and that harms some folks, and others it don’t, and 
you’ll be one of the last kind, ’cause it isn’t your na- 
ture to spoil ; it never was, or you’d have turned sour 
long ago under some of the skies you and I remem- 
ber.” 


78 


THE HOLLANDS. 


A quick look of intelligence, a swift shadow on the 
young face — those last words had touched the quick. 

“ Yes, Hannah. You and I remember.” 

Hannah had been with the Hollands through some of 
their seasons of deepest poverty and suffering. 

“ But, child, I want you to remember that the old 
house waits for you with a warm welcome, and always will, 
until John and I have passed over its threshold for the 
last time. There’s a place always at the table, and a 
room always under the roof for you ; and though both 
are plain and humble, maybe the thought will make your 
heart warm sometimes when the chill comes down on 
it.” 

Hannah was little given to speeches of this sort, but 
her feeling now carried her quite out of herself into a 
kind of homely eloquence. 

The great tears shook in Jessamine’s eye3. She laid 
her little, warm hands in the. hard, brown ones of the 
faithful serving woman. 

“ 0 Hannah ! you are the best friend, the dearest, I 
have in all the world, except Boss.” 

Hannah said nothing this time, only the head before 
her was suddenly blurred. She lifted one of her hands, 
and stroked the delicate face as she had done when it 
lay in her arms under its soft baby’s cap, and she her- 
self was a blooming-cheeked girl, instead of the faded 
woman she was now. 

And if she did not speak any words, Jessamine knew 
it was because she could not. The two understood each 
other. And through all this, the white-haired children 


THE HOLLANDS. 


79 


had tumbled and shouted together in the squall of snow 
outside. Afterward, there was other talk between the 
two in the kitchen; Jessamine had, in accepting the invi- 
tation of the Walbridge family, declined the cavalier 
which had been offered to her. 

Hannah’s husband had relatives living but a few miles 
from the city where the Walbridges resided, and as he 
had been talking for a year of making them a visit, and 
as this season was the one which afforded him the most 
leisure, it w^as decided that he should accompany Jessa- 
mine to the city. 

A friend of the young girl’s, who had fashionable 
relations in New York, and who passed part of every 
season among them, and whose taste amounted almost to 
genius, had been duly consulted regarding Jessamine’s 
wardrobe. 

The result had been a black silk for dinner-parties, 
and a white alpaca with blue trimmings for evening dress, 
— the finest garments which J essamine Holland had ever 
worn in her life. 

“ Of course,” she said, “ the Walbridges will know at 
once, if they do not already, that I caqnot afford to dress 
elegantly; and if they are ashamed to take me out with 
them, why, I can stay at home : ” a speech which indi- 
cated a remarkable degree of good sense and moral cour- 
age on the part of a young girl about to make her first 
advent in fashionable life, on so slender a capital. 

“A simple, genteel dress will carry one through a 
great deal ; and yours is both,” said her friend. 

And so, with a new travelling suit, and fresh touches 


80 


THE HOLLANDS. 


to the rest of Jessamine’s wardrobe, she was fain to be 
content. 

Even the small outlay these involved cost the girl a 
pang. Ross had sent her a hundred dollars for this 
visit, and she feared the 1 c dear fellow had pinched him- 
self to the last dollar ” to transmit such a sum to her. 

If at any time the heart of Jessamine Holland half 
failed her, thinking of this visit, the thought of Duke 
Walbridge, her brother’s friend, had come to steady it. 
She felt certain that he was at the bottom of this invita- 
tion, even though his influence might not be apparent there. 

His visit, as you must know, had formed a grand epoch 
in the lonely life of the girl. That Duke Walbridge 
must feel an interest in the sister of the man who had 
plucked him, at the risk of his own life, from the very 
jaws of death, seemed so natural, so inevitable under the 
circumstances, that Jessamine would never for one mo- 
ment draw any flattering unction to herself from any 
attention which he might offer her. Ross was the bond 
between them ; no light one on either side. 

J essamine Holland was romantic ; but she was not 
vain. There was a fresh simplicity about the girl which- 
struck its roots into the very mould of her nature ; it gave 
a certain earnestness to all she said and did ; and, as it 
was a part of her life, this quality would lend a freshness 
and charm of youth to her old age. 

You have seen such natures ; they are sometimes ab- 
rupt ; but J essamine had delicate instincts, which would 
always be swift to spare the feelings of others. So much 
salt there was to savor the character of Jessamine Holland. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


81 


CHAPTER VII. 

It is an afternoon late in December. The sky is 
warped all over with dull, heavy clouds. The wind 
cries out fiercely sometimes, as the day settles itself 
sullenly into night. The air is stung through with a 
sharp chill, which smites into your marrow, and down 
into your heart, and mingles with any other chill, if so 
be it is there. 

Just at this time a carriage drives into the Walbridge 
grounds and up to the door, and the lights from the win- 
dows gleam brightly upon the couchant lions on each 
side of the steps, until they seem to look larger and 
grimmer than ever. 

Jessamine Holland alights from the carriage, and her 
first glance rests on the stern stone warders. Is it that 
sight, or the wind, or both, that makes her shiver as she 
walks up the broad front steps ? The coachman rings 
the bell, and the door of the splendid home opens softly, 
and Jessamine goes in. She walks through the wide 
hall and up the handsome staircase to the sitting-roqm ; 
where, as the door opens, she sees in the radiant light 
the Walbridge family assembled to receive her. 

And now pause and think of her a moment, as sho 


82 


THE HOLLANDS. 


stands in their midst, a lonely, shrinking girl, the only 
relative she has on earth such wide spaces of ocean away. 
There she stands, a quiet figure, in a gray travelling 
dress, something dainty and graceful about her, even in the 
midst of all those elegant people. There she stands, and 
heart and soul seem about to fail her ; for it is an awful 
moment, — one she will never * forget in all the time to 
come. 

“ Now, Jessamine Holland, steady yourself,” says the 
failing courage in the fluttering heart, girding itself up, 
and then Mrs. Walbridge steps forward to do, as becomes 
her, the honors of the house. She does them well. 

11 Miss Holland, I am most happy to welcome you to 
our home,” is said, in the lady’s softest, most gracious 
manner ; but she is not thinking, u Poor, young, lonely, 
motherless thing ! how trying all this must be for 
you!” She is quietly but keenly noticing Jessa- 
mine’s air and figure, and the fabric of her dress, 
and that warmer welcome of the heart it is not in the 
nature of Mrs. Walbridge to give. 

Then Edith comes forward, with her fair, proud face, 
the rustle of her elegant dress following her path along 
the rich carpet, and her smile is bright; but Jessamine 
does not warm under it. And each of those fair, bloom- 
ing girls has gone through her part, until it has come 
Eva’s turn. 

She steps forward. She has been admiring the 
way in which “mamma and the girls” have gone 
through with their parts, and intends that hers shall not 
suffer a disparaging comparison with the others ; but a 


THE HOLLANDS. 


83 


swift thought of a stormy night, and a voice shouting out 
through the darkness and the rush of the waves, “Hold 
on, and I’ll save you ! ” sweeps upon Eva Walbridge. 
He* face trembles as it lifts itself to J essamine. Instead 
of one hand, she puts out both, and grasps the stranger, 
— “0 Mjfs Holland ! I am glad to thank you, at last, 
for what your brother did for mine.” 

The words strike through the chill in Jessamine’s 
heart. The tears slip, in spite of herself, into the eyes, 
that even Edith, has decided are remarkably fine, and for 
the first time Mrs. Walbridge feels a little secret unea- 
siness. 

Eva’s welcome seemed to shed some new light upon 
hers, that made it, by contrast, appear lacking in cordial- 
ity. She had intended to say all that was required 
respecting their obligations to Miss Holland’s brother 
when a fit season occurred, which surely would not be on 
the young lady’s first arrival. 

But Eva had anticipated her nether, and really Mrs. 
Walbridge could find nothing to censure, in speech or 
manner, of her youngest daughter. At that moment the 
maid appeared, to conduct the new guest to her chamber, 
and as she followed the young girl up the winding flight 
of stairs, Jessamine Holland thought of Eva’s welcome, 
and it seemed the only really pleasant thing in the splen- 
did home to which she had come. 

As soon as she left the sitting-room, the inmates gath- 
ered into a corner, and a brisk conversation ensued. 
il Well, now, what do you think of her? ” asked one girl, 


84 


THE HOLLANDS. 


as though it was absolutely necessary to decide Jessa- 
mine’s status in the household without loss of time. 

“ She isn’t exactly stylish, as we call it, mamma? ” 
ashed another, sufficiently doubtful to need the maternal 
confirmation of her criticism. 

Mrs. Walbridge, not quite assured of the character of 
her welcome, desired to be generous in her criticisms on 
the young stranger : “ Style, my dear, is not the only 
desirable attribute in a young lady. There is certainly 
nothing in her manner to find fault with.” 

“ She was a little embarrassed during the introduc- 
tions,” commented Edith, who prided herself on her sang 
froid , under most circumstances. 

“But, my dear,” said again the mild voice of the 
mother, “you must remember how trying it was. I 
wonder she went through it so well.” 

“Her dress was simple enough: but then it was in 
good taste; nothing of the backwoods-air about it,” 
added another of th% sisters. 

“ Anyhow, I like her ever so much,” broke in Eva, in 
her decided way ; “and I’m sure she’s handsome ; nobody 
can deny that.” 

“ Nobody wished to, I presume, if it be true, my 
dear,” suggested the mother. 

“ But is it true ? — that’s the question,” said another. 

“ Not exactly,” replied Edith. “She has fine eyes 
and very good features, and, in full dress, I should think 
might look well. Her eyes are, really, something un- 
common.” 

“It's a delicate face, — what I think people would call 


THE HOLLANDS. 


85 


interesting. I shouldn’t wonder if she made quite a 
sensation in society ; for there’s something a little unlike 
the ordinary type about her, I fancy,” added Gertrude. 

Into the midst of this feminine conclave Duke burst, 
panting. The criticisms would have to be a little more 
guarded now. 

“ Has Miss Holland arrived ? ” he burst out. 

“ Yes, and has just gone upstairs,” answered several 
voices. 

“ I’m glad to hear that ; I was just about starting for 
the cars, when an old chum of mine, from Germany, 
burst into the office. Of course I was glad to see him ; 
for we had footed and staged over half the continent to- 
gether, and the sight of him started a flock of old mem- 
ories, of climbing up the Alps, and moonlight boatings 
at Venice, and pretty peasant-girls at Italy. 

“ The time just spun off; and when I looked at my 
watch, I saw I was too late ; the carriage must have gone 
without me. I rushed away from my friend, as quick as 
I could with any sort of decency, and hurried up here.” 

“ I certainly expected and desired, my son, that you 
should meet Miss Holland at the depot ; but the coach- 
man said he knew she was the right young lady as soon 
as he laid eyes on her; so there was no difficulty,” re- 
plied Mrs. Walbridge. 

“ Well, Pussy, what* did you say to her ? ” asked 
Duke, to Eva, who had come over to him, with plenty 
of talk in her face. 

“Not much; but I think she knew what I meant 
when I told her that I was glad to thank her for all her 


86 


THE HOLLANDS. 


brother had done for mine. I saw the tears come in her 
eyes then.” 

“You did?” 

“ Yes ; and 0 Duke, I like her ever so much. I 
am sure we shall get on nicely together. They were all 
discussing her when you came in.” 

“ Well, what did they say about her ? ” 

“ Pretty good things. They all thought she was lady- 
like and good-looking.” 

Duke said nothing, and, after a moment, Eva contin- 
ued : — 

“ I haven’t forgotten our talk, Duke. I intend to do 
all I can to make Miss Holland happy.” 

“I shall not forget it, Eva,” — smiling on her now. 
“ It will be a kind of test of the value you set on me.” 

Eva made some playful rejoinder, and, in the midst of 
the talk, her father entered, and she darted off to ac- 
quaint him with Miss Holland’s arrival. 

• Just as the dinner-bell rang, the young lady entered 
the room, — a magnet, again, for all eyes. 

Jessamine Holland was a young girl, and very human. 
She had made her toilet that evening with a good deal 
of trepidation, smiling a little to herself as she gazed 
around the handsome chamber, and thought of its im- 
mense contrast to the little room she had under the roof 
in Hannah Bray’s cottage. TRe hair was brushed back 
from the low, wide forehead, in the only way she ever 
wore it ; the dark, heavy folds giving their own effect to 
the delicate face. She wore her black silk, with the fresh 
lace at the throat. Poor J essamine ! she had not put it 


THE HOLLANDS. 


87 


on without a little pang at the extravagance of wearing 
it at a simple home-dinner, but she thought of the group 
of handsomely dressed girls downstairs, and she remem- 
bered the remark of the friend who had superintended 
her wardrobe, “ That there is a great deal in first im- 
pressions.” 

Mr. Walbridge came forward, and received his guest 
with stately courtesy. Not so Duke. His greeting was 
so cordial, his welcome so full of frank eagerness, that 
Jessamine began to feel at her ease at once. His ques- 
tions came so fast, that she could only find space to reply 
in monosyllables. Had her journey been pleasant? 
Was she tired? and then followed explanations and apol- 
ogies for not meeting her at the depot. 

There was the^elegant Edith on one side; there were 
all those pretty, blooming girls about her ; and yet, I 
half fancy, the eyes of a stranger entering the room, at 
this moment, would have returned oftenest to the quiet 
figure in the simple black dress, and the delicate face 
under the shading of the beautiful hair ; though I sup- 
pose that would depend largely on the character and 
taste of the gazer. 

Duke took Miss Holland out to dinner, but Eva 
claimed a seat by the side of her. 

Of course Jessamine’s manner at the table underwent 
something of the same covert inspection that her broth- 
er’s had done before, without, however, affording any 
salient points for criticism. 

The family was all gracious, although Duke and Eva 
seemed to feel that the new guest belonged, especially, to 


88 


THE HOLLANDS. 


themselves, and there was something in the young man’s 
manner which could thaw any chill in the Walbridge 
atmosphere. 

Jessamine Holland, too, had latent conversational gifts, 
which she never suspected, but which the world would be 
likely to develop ; and eager, timid, expectant, she stood 
now, on the threshold of that same marvellous world of 
which she had so often dreamed, — a quiet, girlish fig- 
ure, not without something pathetic in its silent back- 
ground, in its youth, and its loneliness. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


89 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The visit which launched Jessamine Holland into a 
new w T orld placed the girl secretly on her mettle. Per- 
haps she was hardly conscious of it ; but it was inevitable 
that a visit of this sort must prove a fine touchstone of 
whatever social powers were latent in her ; a touchstone 
which would be likely, too, in subtle ways, to try some- 
thing of one’s real moral fibre, and to enable a keen and 
broad observer of human nature to discern pretty accu- 
rately what sort of qualities went to the making of the 
whole character. To any girl brought up as Jessamine 
had been, this visit must prove in many ways a severe 
ordeal. 

A soft, absolvent nature, with natural refinement of 
taste and feeling, would have been permanently shaped 
and impressed by the influences which now surrounded 
J essamine Holland ; a stronger, coarser nature must have 
taken on a superficial varnish, while retaining beneath all 
its own strong individuality. The time had come now, 
as, sooner or later, I suppose it comes to all of us, to 
test what power was in this girl, — what sort of a woman 
had come at last out of the shadowed childhood, the lone- 
ly, defrauded youth ; and when these tests came in forms 
8 


90 


THE HOLLANDS. 


she looked not for, her own deeds are her witnesses for 
good or for evil. 

At any rate, the TValbridges, who ought to be good 
judges in these matters, came to the conclusion that Jes- 
samine would be worth patronizing ; which a shy, common- 
place girl would hardly have been. Not that they shut 
their intentions in a word, which has something offensive 
about it ; they disguised all that under graceful terms of 
hospitality and courtesies. They had, however, an in- 
stinct that Miss Holland would be interesting, and might 
create a sensation which would redound more or less to 
their own glory. 

So far and near circulated the story of Duke’s rescue 
from drowning by Ross Holland, making of the latter 
quite a grand hero, and, of course, investing his sister 
with a certain atmosphere of romance and interest. Peo- 
ple always like to hear new stories ; and this one had a 
charm of peril and intrepidity which attracted every one. 
And so J essamine Holland produced quite a sensation in 
the Walbridge circle. The family, too, were quite will- 
ing that everybody should discern their sense of obliga- 
tion to the sister of Duke’s preserver ; for the feeling was 
one which everybody must approve. 

So, within two or three days after Jessamine’s arri- 
val, everybody had heard the story of her acquaintance 
with the family ; and, meanwhile, that young lady her- 
self was making her first acquaintance with the city, 
having daily rides, and little shopping expeditions, and 
visits to the picture-galleries, and to whatever else was 
famous or interesting in the city. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


91 


She expressed her delight rather more energetically 
to Eva than to any of her sisters ; but the young girl’s 
answer dashed cold water upon Jessamine’s enthusi- 
asm. 

“ Oh, we haven’t anything in town worth showing at 
all ; but you should go to New York or Boston, Miss 
Jessamine. There you’ll see something in pictures and 
statuary.” 

Jessamine wondered if she should ever have such 
good fortune as that ; and then she thought of the time 
when Boss was to return from the Indies with the for- 
tune he had made, and they would not only go to all the 
great cities, but visit the Falls, and the Mountains, and 
the Mammoth Cave. 

But that was a long time to look ahead, and, mean- 
while, she must make the most of what she had now. 
A very few thousands, in Jessamine’s eyes, were to make 
the grand fortune for Boss and herself ; most men and wo- 
men would have smiled with a good-natured contempt over 
it ; but then J essamine had been educated in a very stern 
school of economy, and she knew just how far a little 
money would go ; how much comfort, grace, luxury it 
would afford, which is a great thing for anybody to learn 
wisely. 

In two or three days the girl made her entrance into 
society, at a grand party, — a sort of opening of the 
season. The whole thing was so entirely strange and 
novel to her, that Jessamine quite forgot herself in 
the bustle of preparation at the household. 

She was bending, in breathless delight, over a basket 


92 


THE HOLLANDS. 


of flowers which had been ordered for the occasion, when 
Mrs. Walbrhjge, who was discussing with her daughters 
some of the details of the evening toilet, turned sudden- 
ly to Jessamine with, 11 My dear Miss Holland, per- 
haps you will like Jane to dress your hair for the even- 
ing? She has a wonderful art at doing those things 
well.” 

“ Thank you, Mrs. Walbridge,” answered the soft, 
steady voice, which they all had learned to recognize 
now. “ I am in the habit of dressing my own hair, and 
I always wear it in one way; so I will not trouble 
Jane.” 

Of course this left nothing more to be said ; but J es- 
samine was only well out of hearing when Gertrude 
spoke. “I wonder what she will wear this evening. 
In all our talk over our dresses, to-day, she has not said 
one word about her own. I wanted to ask her ; but I was 
afraid it would seem a little like taking a liberty, though 
everybody talks freely over such things.” 

11 She can’t have much of a variety to choose from in 
that small trunk of hers,” added Edith. “ Why, I 
should no more think of going to New York to pass a 
week on a wardrobe that could be stowed in such small 
quarters, than I should of undertaking a journey to the 
moon.” 

“ No, I should think not, Edith, from the amount of 
trunk-room you manage to occupy,” added her mother, 
who considered Edith’s views regarding dress rather ex- 
travagant, even for the daughter of so rich a man as 
Mason Walbridge. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


93 


“Well, I have a kind of feeling that, whatever Miss 
Holland puts on, she will look well in it,” added Ger- 
trude. “ Some people have a gift in that way.” And 
from this general remark the discussion of particulars 
was resumed again. 

An hour later, J essamine Holland came downstairs in 
her dress of white alpaca, terminating in a soft frill of 
lace about her throat, which dropped in a fine, gauzy- 
scarf over her shoulder. 

Not an ornament did she wear, except the little gold 
brooch at her throat, which had been her birthday gift 
from Ross. She had twined a few cape-jessamines in 
her hair that Eva had brought her fresh from the con- 
servatory that morning, “for her namesake,” the child 
playfully said. 

The white drooping clusters shone like stars through 
the dark hair, and there she stood among the richly 
dressed group, with their lustrous silks, their glitter of 
jewels, their glow of color; and I think the eye of any 
true artist would have rested longest, and with a certain 
fine relish, on the cool, quiet figure of the girl. Of 
course she underwent a minute inspection on all sides, 
and then Mr. Walbridge and Duke came downstairs to 
join the ladies ; for the carriages were waiting. 

“A party is Duke’s absolute abhorrence,” said Ger- 
trude, confidentially, to Jessamine. “He’s been more 
amiable over the prospect of this one than I ever knew 
him. When he’s particularly cross we always know a 
party is impending.” 

The young man’s eyes took in the group standing in 


94 


THE HOLLANDS . 


the front hall ; a picture of youth, grace, Voom, such as 
one, it seemed, might never tire of beholding. He had 
a fine discernment of beauty wherever he found it, and 
his thoughts, stirred by the sight, went thus to his own 
soul : “ A ‘ very dream of fair women.’ How all that 
glow of color dazzles one, like the light in some of those 
still Eastern sunsets I used to love ! How like a water- 
lily she looks among the others ! — white, still, graceful, 
as though she had been gathered up suddenly from the 
broad, slow current where her life had ripened, silent 
and serene, into a great white purity and fragrance, and 
the dew is on her still, and the sunlight ! ” 

If Duke could have looked at these thoughts of his, 
printed in a book, he would have been mortally ashamed 
of them ; but, I suppose, Duke Walbridge was not alone . 
in that matter. 

People are apt to be in a good-humor going to parties 
These flowed down the steps, full of merry excitement ; 
so the carriages rolled over the drive, and, a little later, 
J essamine Holland made her first entrance into fashion- 
able life. 

Late the next morning, the family met to discuss the 
party in what Edith, rather ambitiously, termed her 
“ boudoir .” 

“ I really think she made quite a sensation,” said one 
of the girls. “ There is something peculiar and at- 
tractive about her, and people like anything which is not 
the cut-and-dried pattern one always meets at parties.” 

“ Duke spoke through you then,” laughed Edith. 
“But I think the interest Miss Holland created is part- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


95 


ly owing to that matter of Duke’s, which everybody has 
heard of by this time.” 

“Undoubtedly,” said her mother. “ I had to repeat 
the incident at least a dozen times, myself, during the 
evening. Still, I must admit that Miss Holland did her- 
self remarkable credit for a young person who had seen 
so little of the world.” 

“ She is a kind of a riddle anyhow,” added Gertrude. 
“I watched her curiously last evening, for I knew she 
had never been at a grand party before in her life. Yet 
she carried herself through it without a solitary blunder 
of any kind ; and really there w'ere several gentlemen 
who were interested in her. She doesn’t dance or play ; 
but she does talk well, and she does look remarkably 
pretty when she is animated. Did you observe her while 
she was conversing with those people at the supper- 
table ? ” 

“I did,” replied Edith. 

“ Well, there was more than one gentleman who was 
struck with her. Really, mamma, now the best thing 
we could do for Miss Holland would be to get her a rich 
husband this winter. We should feel then that we had 
done something for her in our turn, and it would pay olf 
part of the debt. I do hope somebody will fall in love 
with her.” 

“I should be exceedingly gratified, my dear, at any- 
thing which would advance Miss Holland’s welfare ; but, 
Gertrude, I do not like to hear you speak as though 
riches was the only desirable quality in a husband.” 

“I did* not mean that, mamma; but you know how 


96 


THE HOLLANDS. 


important they are, especially for a young lady in Miss 
Holland’s circumstances.” 

“ I was telling over the story of Duke’s drowning to 
some young girls last evening,” said the younger but one 
of the group, “ and they all insisted that it would be such 
a delightful romance in real life, for Duke to marry the 
sister of his preserver ; in fact, that it was the proper 
thing for him to do.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” said Mrs. Walbridge. “ Girls will 
say all manner of foolish things.” 

“I thought last night,” said Gertrude, “that she 
made almost everybody else seem overdressed, she 
looked so pure, and white, and noiseless, like a kind of 
snow-drift; and yet it was nothing but a white alpaca, 
after all ; but it seemed as though nothing else would 
suit Miss Holland.” 

“ I suspect she has had little chance of trying vari- 
ety. White alpacas are inexpensive, you know, and 
seem especially designed for people who can’t afford to 
wear colors. It’s my private opinion, that Miss Holland’s 
party wardrobe is confined to that and her black silk 
dress,” said Edith. 

“Well, anyhow, she looks like a real lady in them; 
and you can’t say that of everybody who wears velvet 
and diamonds,” put in Eva. 

“ Nothing would afford me more pleasure than to make 
some additions to Miss Holland’s wardrobe ; but that is 
a delicate matter,” said Mrs. Walbridge, who had already 
discerned that all patronage of Jessamine Holland must 
be skilfully managed. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


97 


“ But, mamma, you know Christmas is close at hand, 
and each of us then can give Miss Holland something 
nice,” again suggested Eva, whose tongue always bore 
its share in the family conclave. 

“ That is a bright idea, my little daughter. We will 
have an especial reference to what will be of most service 
to Miss Holland in our selection of Christmas gifts.” 

Meanwhile the subject of all this talk sat in her cham- 
ber, for Mrs. Walbridge had very considerately insisted 
that Miss Holland, after her late hours, should take her 
breakfast in her own room. 

Jessamine Holland sat there, her head resting upon 
her hand, thinking over her last night. What a new 
world it was into which she had had a glimpse,— a world 
of gayety, splendor, luxury, that seemed like Prospero’s 
magic to her. She thought, too, — and the smile grew 
about her lips and a glow came into her cheeks, — of all 
the flattering attentions she had received. She was no 
angel, as I have told you before, moving amidst others 
with sweet unconsciousness, or lofty indifference to any 
admiration she might receive. On the contrary, Jessa- 
mine Holland had a large share of approbativeness, and 
was keenly alive to the opinions of those around her. 
She had made her entree at the grand party with a great 
many flutterings of heart ; but before the evening was 
over she had found that she possessed some latent forces 
which she had never suspected in herself. She had 
felt their awakening as she stood in the midst of that 
group of men and women, conscious that they looked and 

listened with a pleased surprise of admiration. She 

a 


98 


THE HOLLANDS. 


lived all that over now in a few moments, and the flash 
in her eyes was the flash of newly awakened vanity. 

It was a dangerous time for Jessamine Holland. It 
always is for a woman when she first learns that she 
possesses some subtle power of attraction for men and 
women. The delicate head poised itself with a new 
pride ; there was a new triumph in the smile that curved 
the red lips. The future was before her also. In its 
intoxicating atmosphere there was the homage of men, 
the envying admiration of women, the dazzling illusions 
of youth and vanity. The conquests which her charms 
should win, the triumphs which her arts should achieve, 
spread themselves before her. If there were pitfalls 
along that path, how could she know it with the flowers 
blooming gayly along their brink ? 

Yet suddenly, in the midst of all the flush and glow 
of the moment, the city clock struck, the loud chimes, 
one after another, rolling out their silvery waves into the 
silence. 

It started the girl walking up and down the room in 
the charmed atmosphere of her fancies, and a new gravi- 
ty came into her face. 

It brought back to her the old, rust-tinted cottage, the 
wide, pleasant kitchen, where, at that very hour, she 
used to guide the slow passage of those two tow-headed 
boys down the alphabet. It was painful work at the 
best. She used to lose her patience sometimes, — though 
their mother or the boys themselves never suspected this, 
— remembering how nimbly Ross and she had sailed 
down the current of those letters. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


99 


Other thoughts slip in behind this last memory. She 
Bees the old childish home, and the father dreams about 
the house, and the mother’s pale face looks worried and 
scared. She remembers the nights when she and Ross 
cuddled over the bit of fire, and w a ent supperless to bed 
and tried to think they were not hungry ; and how she 
cried to herself one night, softly, her head hidden away 
in the pillow, because she had read that people sometimes 
lived a week without food, and that it would take such a 
long time for her and Ross to starve, and mamma had 
said they must all do that before they could beg. 

The tears come into her eyes now, thinking of those 
dreadful times, and she glances, around the elegant cham- 
ber, at the silver and china breakfast-service on the table. 
If she could only have looked forward to all this, and 
seen herself here, how much it would have seemed like 
Cinderella’s slipper, and all that came of it ! 

The pride has all gone, and a soft tremulousness has 
come around her lips instead. 

She sits down now, and the “ long, long thoughts ’ 7 
of her youth come again, not as before. 

“Jessamine Holland, for shame!” they say to her. 
“ Are these the things to delight your soul? Is this the 
womanly ideal you will go seeking after ? Will you set 
no higher aim before you than the homage and flattery 
of men, the praise and envy of women ? 

“ Take all the comfort and pleasure that is the right 
of your youth in this new life that has come to you. 
But. beyond that, see that your soul possesses itself in 
courage and strength, in sweetness, and gentleness, and 


100 


THE HOLLANDS. 


truth. If you are happier, seek also, by so much, to 
be better. 

“ If you find that you have new powers to attract and 
influence others, remember always that God has left 
these in trust with y®u. You know you are vain, Jes- 
samine Holland, and that admiration is very sweet to 
you. See to it, now, that it does not eat into your sin- 
cerity and simplicity. Try and not think too much of 
the impression you are making on others, and a little 
more of the good you may do to them, — of the happi- 
ness you may confer upon them. 

“ Many sharp sorrows have taught you their wisdom, 
and though you are in the midst of the days of your 
youth, you know these do not stand still, but slip and 
slip as the waves of the river do going to the sea. 

“ Keep faith with your youth, 0 Jessamine Hol- 
land ! ” 

So her thoughts spoke to this girl, and her soul stood 
still and listened. Afterward, in the press and burden 
of life, other voices came and sang sweetly to her soul. 
Whether she listened and heeded again, I leave her own 
life to tell you. 


THE HOLLANDS . 


101 


CHAPTER IX. 

u They were all too old for a Christmas-tree now, 
with its wax tapers and sugar-flowers,” Mrs. Walbridge 
averred, with half a sigh and half a smile, looking at 
her family of big girls and bigger hoy. But after 
breakfast the household went, in high spirits, into the 
library, which had been for the last two or three days 
the scene of many private conferences, and the key of 
which Mrs. Walbridge had sedulously kept from all but 
privileged fingers. The whole programme was, of course, 
entirely new to Jessamine Holland, and she enjoyed it 
with the keen relish of novelty. 

In one corner, on a table, was a huge pyramid of pack- 
ages of all sizes, in white wrappings, with cards at- 
tached. 

Duke took the post of honor on one side, and his 
mother the opposite one, while the latter read the names 
on the cards, and the former distributed the packages to 
their respective owners, amidst little shrieks of curiosity 
and delight. 

The whole thing was^ altogether new to Jessamine 
Holland. She enjoyed the scene with a keener relish, 
though all its warmth and color lay against a background 


102 


THE HOLLANDS. 


of other Christmas mornings in the girl’s memory ; some 
of them gloomy and sorrowful enough, but some of them 
bringing the marvellous wonder and delight of a china 
doll in a painted cradle, stuffed into the toe of her stock- 
ing, or a little box of small dishes with pewter spoons, 
and a row of wooden soldiers or a spinning-top for Ross. 
Her head is all astir and tremulous with those old, 
plaintive memories, and though she laughs with the 
others, she is not quite certain but that she wants to run 
away and cry. 

She starts suddenly, for somebody calls her name, and 
the next moment something tumbles into her lap, — a 
large, soft, long package, which she sits a moment star- 
ing at helplessly , in a way which amuses everybody. 

“Let me help you, Miss Holland,” says Eva, coming 
to the rescue ; for it is the fashion to speedily divest 
every gift of its wrappings, and expose it for general in- 
spection and admiration. 

Jessamine’s fingers were dreadfully awkward that 
morning ; but Eva’s snapped the cords gayly, and rus- 
tled away the papers, and lo ! a silk fabric of a soft, 
rich, lustrous brown, dark and quiet, and yet with a 
certain glow and warmth about it, as though it had just 
escaped a flood of sunlight. The texture was of the 
very richest and heaviest. J essamine Holland could not 
imagine herself in anything of that sort ; yet one gifted 
with fine taste in such matters would have seen it was 
just suited to her face and figure. 

“Why, is this really for me?” half fancying there 
must be some mistake. 


THE HOLLANDS . 


103 


“Why, of course it is,” went Eva’s prompt, silvery 
little tongue. “ Don't you see, there’s. papa’s name, too, 
on the card. That’s his Christmas gift. Isn’t it beau- 
tiful?/’ shaking up the rich folds in the light. 

Before Jessamine could draw her bieath freely again, 
another package tumbled into her lap ; a small one this 
time, but you felt instinctively there was something very 
nice and dainty inside of it. Eva’s fingers were ready 
for service again, and a purple velvet case peeped out, 
and then, touching a spring, a lady’s watch and chate- 
laine, chaste and simple as possible, and as exquisite too, 
flashed up into the eyes of Jessamine Holland. She 
could not speak a word. Eva took up the card and read 
it : “ Ross Holland, through his friend, Duke Wal- 
bridge.” 

That was Duke’s way of making his Christmas gift ; 
then such a gift, too, and such a way, giving the beauti- 
ful watch a double value ! 

Jessamine tried to speak; but if she had uttered 
a word, its path lay right through a sob, and in all the 
strong feeling of the moment she felt she must not lose 
herself before those people. But thick tears were in the 
eyes she flashed up to Duke Walbridge, and he took in 
all they said to him at that moment. 

Afterward, # there were other things fell into J essa- 
mine’s lap: a brooch from Mrs. Walbridge, — a rare 
Florentine mosaic in a rich setting of gold, — and some 
costly laces from Edith, and pretty and tasteful things 
from the girls. Each one had remembered the sister of 
Ross Holland on this Christmas morning, and though 


104 


THE HOLLANDS. 


each gift had, no doubt, been selected with a certain ref- 
erence to her wants, and would have an immediate ser- 
viceable value to her ; still, the most delicate sensitiveness 
could not be pained at the character and time of the 
gift. 

When it was all over, the girl tried to stammer out 
some thanks to the givers ; but Duke interrupted her 
with some unusual feeling and earnestness in his voice. 
“ Ah, Miss Jessamine, it is not for you to talk about 
paltry gifts ; it is for us to remember that if it had not 
been for you and yours we should not to-day be the 
unbroken Christmas household we are ! ” 

If there was any danger of the Walbridges forgetting, 
in the light of their favors, that they were the debtors, 
Duke took care to hold the fact before their eyes in the 
way most certain to keep their remembrance vivid, and 
to relieve Jessamine from any overwhelming sense of 
obligation, which was heavy enough at the lightest. She 
had her cry though, all alone to herself, upstairs that 
day, when she went to dress for the Christmas dinner. 
How good it was to be alone, after all ! 

There lay the beautiful things on the bed, worth more 
than all she possessed in the world. What would Ross 
say to see them ? He would be thinking, now, of the 
old home Christmases, under that tropical sun, with the 
moist, heavy fragrance of Eastern groves all around him. 
As the slow winds slipped among the great plantain- 
leaves, as the sweet, mournful songs of the natives at 
their work rose, and quivered, and died in the sultry 
stillness, would he think longingly of the cold Christmas 


THE HOLLANDS . 


105 


mornings at home, — of the snows on the hills and 
the skatings on the river, and of the little sister who 
clung to him, half in terror, half in delight, in her 
brown cloak and bit of a pink hood, out there on the 
ice? 

But she struggled out of all these memories into the 
present. There was so much to be thankful for this 
Christmas. She had never felt so tenderly toward the 
Walbridges collectively, as she did at that moment. 
Every day she said to herself, in a half-chiding fashion, 
“ How kind, how good they all are ! ” 

Yet, for all that, the heart of Jessamine Holland held 
itself back from these people who lavished their favors 
upon her. Motherless, lonely girl though she was, she 
could never have gone to Mrs. Walbridge with any vital 
joy or grief. The soft, measured tones, the very smile 
forbade that. A feeling that she must be always on her 
guard, that she was watched and scrutinized, clung un- 
comfortably to Jessamine, whenever she was in the pres- 
ence of the lady and her daughters. It neutralized, to a 
large degree, Jessamine’s happiness in the elegant home. 
She was never just at her ease except when she was with 
Duke and Eva. 

The child had taken an ardent liking to Jessamine. 
She was always certain to be at the girl’s side in the 
drawing-room, and in their walks and rides. 

Jessamine, too, was singularly fond of the youngest 
of the household. With Duke and Eva she was thor- 
oughly at home, and she found her highest enjoyment in 
those times when they three gathered themselves in a 


106 


THE HOLLANDS. 


corner, away from the others, and had their evenings 
together. 

Then Jessamine Holland was mostly herself, — her- 
self as not even Ross or Hannah Bray in the old home 
knew her. All her thoughts were alive and alert with 
Duke Walbridge, and yet she was less a talker than 
a listener. 

All his travels and experiences opened to her the 
gates of a new world. She went everywhere with him 
in these talks. She stood in the awful silences of the 
desert, under the vast shadows of the pyramids ; she 
floated with him, in long, slumberous, sunny days, down 
the Nile ; she gazed, rapt and awe-struck, upon those vast 
Gothic cathedrals, whose awful mystery of power and 
genius were revealed only to the Middle Ages ; she hung 
upon pictures, whose trances of glory have enriched the 
nations, and she learned some of their grand meanings 
of form and color ; she toiled up wild, snow-bound fast- 
nesses of the Alps ; she dropped down in the nest of 
green valleys hung among the mountains ; she gathered 
grapes, which poured themselves, in heaps of purple 
foam, along the hills ; she heard the songs of the Tuscan 
peasant-girls ring, in their silvery sweetness, through the 
golden sunset air; she swung in Venetian gondolas over 
the black waters, and heard the slow dip of the boatman’s 
oar break the delieious silence ; and she came back, at 
last, from all these scenes with her whole soul stirred 
into living power and beauty in her face, starting new 
depths in the brown, shining eyes, quiveiing about her 
lips in a new sweetness, whether of smiles or pathos, and 


THE HOLLANDS. 


107 


flushing her cheeks with a bloom like that of clouds be- 
fore the sunrise. 

But the talk slipped everywhere, like summer winds 
coming and going at their own sweet will. The sunny 
deeps of the girl’s nature would flash out in mirth and 
playfulness, with a certain quaint originality through 
all ; then a sudden gravity would steal into her face, and 
the shadows would fall into her talk, as they never do 
into those who have not thought and felt strongly, 
whether the souls be old or young. 

It was strange, too, into what grave topics the talk had 
a tendency to stray sometimes. Neither Duke Wal- 
bridge nor Jessamine Holland had the sort of natures 
which is always content to dwell in the surfaces of 
things. All the wide circles of human thought and life 
had a keen interest for both the young souls, and Jessa- 
mine, in her lonely home among the hills, as well as 
Duke, in his wanderings over half a planet, had pondered 
deeply the profound mysteries which underlie all being 
here, — the silent past, from which we came ; the solemn 
present, with which we deal ; the awful future, to which 
we go. 

And, in one way and another, these thoughts came 
out in the talk, sometimes on the man’s side, sometimes 
on the woman’s ; but, in either case, they were sure to be 
met by sympathy of kindred thought and doubt. Each 
had battled with the same perplexity ; each understood 
the feeling of the other. Eragments of this talk floated 
sometimes, through the hum, into another part of the 
room, and, after the manner of girls, his sisters rallied 


108 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Duke mercilessly on the matter, when Miss Holland wad 
out of hearing. 

“ Duke has, at last, found a young woman after his 
heart,” said Gertrude, merrily. “ I caught a few scraps 
of their talk last night ; but, dear me ! it was .entirely 
too recondite for ordinary mortals’ ears. I heard some- 
thing about the old Brahmin’s search after truth, and 
the Greek philosophers ; about Ahrimanes, and Oromas- 
des, and retired in dismay. No doubt it was highly 
edifying and sublime for anybody who has a fancy to 
dwell on Mount Olympus, among the gods ; but my am- 
bition is humbler. What a dreadful blue-stocking Miss 
Holland must be to relish that kind of discourse ! ” 

A laugh went around the circle ; for Gertrude could 
say very bright things, and, when she was in a good 
humor, they never stung. 

“Well,” answered Duke, whom none of his own 
household ever yet put down, 4 “it is a comfort to find, 
at last, such a thing as a really sensible girl, — one who 
cares to talk about something but dress, flirtations, and 
fripperies of that sort.” 

“Oh, well, Duke, youth must have its day,” an- 
swered Mrs. Walbridge. “ Because you happened to enjoy 
an argument on the science of government before you were 
out of small clothes, it is by no means fair to expect that 
everybody else must.” 

“ I think you are putting my precocity rather strongly, 
mother,” answered the youn^man, who perfectly compre- 
hended her secret pride in the matter. ‘ ‘ Rattle-boxes 
and rocking-horses certainly divided my affections with 


THE HOLLANDS. 


109 


all profounder matters at* the period of which you 
speak. ” 

“As for Miss Holland’s being a blue-stocking, it isn’t 
one word of it true,” subjoined Eva. “If you could 
only hear her when she’s funny, you’d never say that 
of her again.” 

Eva’s admiration of Miss Holland was an accepted fact 
in the family. Indeed, it was somehow tacitly understood 
that Miss Holland was, in some especial way, the prop- 
erty of Duke and his youngest sister. 

It may seem singular that Mrs. Walbridge, with all 
her worldly wisdom, had no fears of the results to which 
such an intimacy might lead. In any other case she 
would have been watchful enough; but Jessamine was 
Ross Holland’s sister, and in this light she fancied Duke 
regarded her. She was, in some sense, especially his 
guest. Whatever attentions he paid her, Mrs. Walbridge « 
regarded them as offered for the brother’s sake. Duke’s 
very gratitude wouM cause him to invest the girl with 
graces of person and character, and perhaps the unac- 
knowledged consciousness that something was wanting in 
her own feeling toward Jessamine Holland made Mrs. 
Walbridge peculiarly indulgent toward the intimacy of 
her son and her guest. She did not really admit it to 
herself ; but she did not the less feel that her compla- 
cency here made ample atonement for whatever was 
lacking in herself. 

Then, too, no ordinary conventional rules suited the 
present case. Duke’s acquaintance with the Hollands 
had been made under peculiar circumstances, and must 


110 


THE HOLLANDS. 


always be of an exceptional character. The gratitude 
which he felt toward Ross was, no doubt, the secret of 
his liking for the sister, and it would not become the 
mother to prevent their being so constantly thrown to- 
gether. Everybody in the house seemed to regard the 
matter from Mrs. Walbridge’s point of view ; so Duke, 
and Jessamine, and Eva went riding, sleighing, walking 
together. There was nothing worth seeing in the city 
to which the young man did not introduce their guest ; 
and when they were not out themselves, or there was no 
company at home, the trio often had the evening almost 
entirely to themselves. Then Mrs. Walbridge’s mind 
was unusually preoccupied at this time. Edith had 
several lovers to be regarded, and the mother began 
to suspect the choice to which her eldest daughter in- 
clined. 

It was evident, too, that Miss Holland had taken in 
society, and Mrs. Walbridge hoped, before the winter 
was over, that the young lady might, make some eligible 
match, and intended to use all her influence for the fur- 
therance of this scheme, the lady having no small tact 
in such matters. That would pay off, as well as one 
could, her son’s debt, and with an elegant wedding under 
her roof to conclude the matter handsomely, and a rich 
trousseau, Mrs. Walbridge would feel that she had done 
all that could be demanded of her. 

As for Duke, he had been just like nobody else from 
his birth. His mother did not think him particularly 
susceptible to youthful charms. Indeed, like the girls, 
she very much doubted whether he would not be an old 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Ill 


bachelor. So the mother reasoned; not unlike most 
mothers perhaps. 

Jessamine Holland, upstairs, dressed herself, as I 
said, with some new warmth of feeling toward all the 
Walbridges that Christmas day. There lay the beauti- 
ful gifts on the bed, and every few moments she turned 
to look at them with smiles coming into her eyes, and 
tears, too, now and then. How much thought and kind- 
ness each gift proved, and how much delicate taste and 
tact each showed too ! Everything was just what she 
wanted, and just what she could not buy. She was an 
ungrateful thing, to stand aloof as she did, in her heart 
of hearts, from those people. It was a foolish, misera- 
ble pride, not a high, generous spirit, which held her 
back from them all. 

“And, Jessamine,” she said to herself, pausing a 
moment before she went downstairs, “you are not to 
think of yourself, you know, or of the impression you 
are making on others. That last will be very hard, be- 
cause you are so fond of admiration ; but while you are 
determined to have a good time yourself, you a»e to 
seek, also, to make one for others when you are among 
them.” 

After dinner that evening, the family did not disin- 
tegrate into groups as early as usual. The day and its 
associations had some attractions which held them to- 
gether. 

The winds sprang up fiercely as the night shut down, 
and, if one listened, their cry outside was an awful thing 
to hear. One and another spoke of it with a little shiver 


112 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“ How the wind does blow ! J ust hear that ! It’s like 
the bellowing of a gale at sea ! ” and comments of that 
sort. 

Inside there was nothing hut glow, and warmth, and 
luxurious ease. Jessamine wondered if there were any 
homeless creatures abroad in the storm, or any cowering 
in miserable homes, cold and hungry, on the Christmas 
night, to whose souls it had brought no “glad tidings.” 

“ Did anybody there ever think of the poor, or know 
there were such in God’s 'world ? ” Jessamine won- 
dered. Mrs. Walbridge did, of course, because she was 
the president of a benevolent society. 

What a good thing money was ! What a difference it 
made in human lots ! — looking on the scene before her, 
which was brought into stronger relief by the cold and 
darkness outside. They were all in their best humor to- 
night. Mr. Walbridge called for some music, which was 
rather unusual for him, and the girls played some of his 
favorite airs, and Duke went and sat down at his mother’s 
feet, and laid his head in her lap, as he used to do when 
he was a little boy, as he on very rare occasions did now. 
The long, loose hair hung all about her lap. She took 
some of it up, and played with it, and stroked it fondly. 

“ 0 my big boy,” she said, “ I used to play with it 
just so years ago, when you were hardly higher than my 
knee. I wish you were just that little boy now.” 

“ Why do you wish that, mother ? Have I disap- 
pointed you so much, growing older? ” 

“ Oh, no. Not that, Duke. Still, you seemed closer 
to me then. I could take you up in my lap and sing to 


THE HOLLANDS. 


113 


you, and be pretty certain you would not do anything I 
should disapprove, though you were a stubborn little 
rogue ; you always liked to have your own way, Duke . 5 9 

He lifted his brows archly; under them all the time 
the eyes had been smiling at the mother while she 
talked, with that rare tenderness in them which they 
only saw who knew Duke Walbridge intimately. 

“ Yes, I know,”— catching the look, — “you have not 
outgrown that liking still. It’s an odd way, Duke, but 
it has never yet been a bad one.” 

“ Thank you, mother dear, for so much grace. I 
mean it shall never be that last; that, at least, I shall 
always keep faith with myself.” 

“ I have no doubt yo*u will, my boy. I cannot 
imagine you ever doing anything which would make me 
blush because it was unworthy of you. And yet I can 
fancy your doing some things which might pain and dis- 
tress me deeply.” 

“ What are some of those things? ” 

Do not ask me, Duke. I am sure I cannot tell 
what led me to speak of them to-night.” 

He looked grave a moment, pondering something in 
his thought, and his mother said : — 

“You have the old wise look which I remember 
when you had only three or four Christmases on your 
head.” 

Mrs. Walbridge was in an unusually tender mood, 
and . there were springs in the past that flooded her 
memory to-night. 

“ What a homely little cub I must have been among 
10 


114 


THE HOLLANDS. 


all these handsome sisters of mine ! ” said Duke, in his 
bantering way, — “ A black sheep in the lot.” 

It was true that Duke’s boyhood had no beauty to 
boast of. Even his partial mother must admit that. But 
she had always consoled herself with thinking that the 
boy made up, in other directions, for anything that was 
lacking in one. 

Jessamine Holland, among the girls who were having 
a merry time on another side of the room, saw the tab- 
leau of the mother and son. The sight was almost more 
than she could bear. If Ross only had a mother that 
Christmas night into whose lap he could lay his head, 
and who would stroke his hair with her soft fingers ; 
if he was only where she cduld do it a little while, — 
her eyes clouding with tears. It seemed so very hard 
that they two, who so loved each other, must waste their 
youth apart. 

Then she remembered the purposes she had formed up- 
stairs, and, looking down, she caught the gleam of the 
watch she had fastened in her belt when she came down 
to dinner. That started a new train of thought. The 
clouds cleared in her eyes, and the smiles came about 
her lips, and after a while she joined in the general mer- 
riment, — light, breezy talk, none of it worth writing 
down ; and yet it sounded very pleasant with its swift 
gushes of laughter, and Duke and his mother, sitting 
apart, listened to the bright, young voices, and enjoyed 
them. 

Jessamine bore her part in the general fun, and her 
playfulness seemed infectious, for even Edith, with some- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


115 


thing of the school-days she had left behind her, joined 
in the merriment. 

Late'in the evening, Duke came over to Jessamine’s 
side. “ I hope you’ve enjoyed all this nonsense as well 
as you seemed to,” he said. 

“ Just as well. I entered into it from a by-path of 
very pleasant thoughts.” 

“ I saw you smiling to yourself as you sat over there 
on the lounge, and I said to myself, 4 Ah, Miss Jessa- 
mine, you are having some very happy thoughts just 
now. I wonder what they are ? ’ ” 

“ I will tell you, Mr. Walbridge. I was thinking of 
all I should have to write to Ross about my Christmas 
gifts, and what a nice, long letter my next one would be. 
I am frequently writing Ross letters in my thoughts, 
and I sometimes think they are a great deal better than 
those I send him.” 

“Dear fellow! I have been .wishing, more than 
once, that he was here among us to-day,” said Duke, 
earnestly. 

She smiled up at him at that, — a sweet, grateful smile 
coming out all over her face. 

“I have been wondering, all day, what he was doing, 
and certain that he would remember the old Christmases 
when he and I were boy and girl at home.” 

“ I should like to hear something about those too,” 
said Duke. 

“ There doesn’t seem very much to tell. But what 
was wanting in the reality, Ross and I used to make up 
with imagining the time when we should be grown up, 


116 


THE HOLLANDS. 


and have plenty of money, and could make beautiful 
Christmas gifts to each other. 

“I remember that Ross used to fancy me tricked out 
in gold and jewels, until I must have resembled nothing 
quite so closely as the wife of some chief of Otaheite, 
while my ambition was to bestow horses and hounds, and 
a little sail-boat on him, — the things in which I well knew 
his soul took chiefest delight.” 

Duke listened, but hardly spoke. All this was open- 
ing a new world to him, and the vision of those two 
lonely children beguiling their Christmas hours with 
dreams like these moved him more than J essamine would 
be apt to suspect. 

But something in his look or manner drew out another 
of these memories, its shy face beaming down to Duke a 
moment from out of the mists of Jessamine Holland’s 
childhood. 

* 1 There was nothing, though, on which Ross had quite 
so strongly set his heart as the gold watch which I was 
to have as soon as the fortune came in. There was an 
old one in the family, a kind of heirloom, which belonged 
to my great-grandfather, and Ross and I were allowed 
to hold it in our hands sometimes, as an especial grace, 
when we were just outside our babyhood. That old 
watch had a wonderful fascination for us both, with its 
low ticking, that went tireless all day like the katydids 
through the night, and its slow hands, which we had to 
hold our breaths and watch before we could be certain 
they were moving at all. 

“ The old heirloom went the way that all things of 


THE HOLLANDS. 


117 


that sort did in our family ; but I think neither Ross 
nor I ever got over our childish associations, and ‘ J essa- 
mine’s watch 1 came to be the general sign for all the air- 
castles in the family, and we children were not the only 
ones who built them. 

“Ross had his joke over the thing to the last, for I 
remember he said to me the day before we parted, 
‘ Well, Jessamine, I shall have to go to the East Indies 
for your watch, after all ; but, though the way is a long 
one, it’s shorter, in the end, than it would be to wait for 
it in New York.’ ” 

“ And I know you said something in reply, Miss Jes- 
samine. I think I see you doing it now.” 

The bright, cool eyes looked up at him in their pleased, 
surprised way. “ Hoiv do you know I said anything 
then?” she asked, with just a touch of that pretty 
peremptoriness which was her habit at the time when 
Jessamine had been the youngest pet of the family. 

“ Because it is like you to do it. I can almost imag- 
ine the very words of your reply.” 

“ What were they ? ” 

“ I think they must have been something after this 
sort : * 0 Ross ! I had rather have you here than all 
the watches in the world ! ; ” 

She looked at him with a wide amazement in her 
brown eyes. “Why, those were the very words I did 
say ! ” 

He T. r as a little surprised in his turn. “ I did not ex- 
pect that my bow would just hit the mark, — only come 
somewhere near it,” he said. 


118 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“ But it is very funny ! I don’t understand it! I 
am half afraid of you !-” speaking under her breath, and 
looking at him as though she almost fancied he must be 
some necromancer, against whose spells she must guard 
herself. 

Her look amused him vastly. “ Don’t fancy I am a 
* professor of the black art, Miss J essamine. I come by 

all my presciences by perfectly legitimate means. So it 
seems I have anticipated Ross in this matter of the watch. 
Do you think he will easily forgive me?” 

“Oh, yes ! I am sure he will.” 

“I had a right to do that, also, because you know 
what I promised him about taking his place in our last 
meeting ? ” 

“I am sure you have fulfilled your pledge. How 
good you have all been to me ! I never felt this quite 
so much as I do to-night.” 

Duke looked at the girl a moment, with something in 
his eyes which she did not understand. Then he spoke, 
in a grave, solemn tone, utterly in contrast with the one 
which he had used a moment before : — 

“ Whenever you say anything of that sort, I always 
seem to hear those words of Ross’ stealing across your 
speech: ‘Yes; I thought of her, little Jessamine, and 
then I thought perhaps you, too, had a sister at home, 
and plunged in.’ ” 

She had no more to say after that, only he saw a look 
of pain come over her countenance, and her lip quiver a 
moment. J ust then Eva bounded up. 

“What in the world is the matter with you two? 


THE HOLLANDS. 


119 


You look as sober as though it was not Christmas night, 
and it wasn’t everybody’s duty to be happy ! ” 

“ People may be happy and look, sober sometimes. 
Only foolish little girls would fancy that one must be 
always on a high tide of joking and laughter to be com- 
fortable.” 

u Oh, dear! I suppose that ‘ foolish little girl’ was 
intended to quite extinguish me, Duke Walbridge; but I 
am not so easily put down as y »u may imagine.” 

“ Experience has taught me that fact long ago, Eva,” 
answered the young man, with his longest face drawn 
on. 

“Now I shan’t forgive you, Duke, until you tell me 
what you really were thinking of when I came up ; ” 
dropping herself down a moment on the arm of his 
chair. Duke smiled a moment, and glanced over to 
Jessamine. “There, now, Miss Jessamine! it was 
something about you, I am certain!” — following the 
look. 

“ So it was,” answered her brother. . “I happened to 
be comparing the real Miss J essamine with the one I had 
in my mind when I went up in the country last summer, 
to find her.” 

“Oh! what was that last Miss Jessamine like? 1 
should like to know, and so would she, I am certain.” 

“Yes, I should,” replied Jessamine, curious and 
amused. 

“Well, then, she was a little giri, hardly so tall or 
slender as you, Eva, with the roundest cheeks, and a big 
pink rose in each of these ; and a mouth that was always 


120 


THE HOLLANDS . 


ready to laugh, and a dimple on one side ; and bright 
blue eyes; and a little, decided-looking nose, with a 
plentiful sprinkling of freckles all over it ; and a mass 
of bright, yellowish hair with a wave all through it, and 
a pleasant, open forehead beneath.” 

“ Why, that is not one particle like our Miss Jessa- 
mine,” said Eva. “You've just drawn a ruddy, rather 
nice-looking little school-girl.” 

“ And that’s precisely what I thought she was,” added 
Duke, while J essamine laughed in quiet enjoyment over 
this portrait of herself. 

“ But what did you think when you came to see the 
real Miss Jessamine? ” asked Eva. 

“ No matter what I thought, only this much: 1 Well, 
Duke Walbridge, you’ve been making a great fool of 
yourself all the way up here ! ’ ” 

“ Mother ! girls ! it’s almost midnight,” said Mr. 
Walbridge, rousing himself from his nap, and looking at 
his watch. 

“ What a strange Christmas it has been, and what a 
happy one ! ” said Jessamine Holland, a little later, in 
her chamber, going over the events of the day. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


121 


CHAPTER X. 

y.P7 7oung Men’s Lyceum laid itself out for an unus- 
ually brilliant course of lectures that winter, “the high- 
est genius and ability of the country,” the advertisement 
declared, “triumphantly sustaining itself by a brilliant 
list of names.” The Walbridges did not greatly affect 
lectures. That could hardly be expected of people who 
were familiar with whatever was choicest in New York 
and Boston literary and operatic entertainments, and were 
disposed to class any talent imported to their own town 
with all articles of American manufacture, “of an infe- 
rior quality.” 

Mason Walbridge, however, being a public man, felt 
it incumbent on his position to patronize all worthy insti- 
tutions and organizations in the town, and he had been 
relied on from the beginning as one of the stanch sup- 
porters of the lyceum, which had now attained a vigorous 
life. 

It seemed desirable that some of the family should 
manifest their interest in the lectures by an occasional 
attendance, although any suggestion of this kind was apt 
to be met by plenty of unanswerable excuses. 

Jessamine, to whom a really brilliant lecture was 
11 


122 


THE HOLLANDS. 


something entirely new, was as eager for one as for “a 
grand party.” In Duke’s opinion there was no compar- 
ison between the two, and Eva took a fancy to go with 
her brother and her friend. She liked the excitement, 
and to watch the crowd of gayly dressed people, just as 
she liked to go to church on Sundays. u no matter who 
preached.” All that Jessamine enjoyed, too, with the 
keen relish of novelty, but she forgot everything else 
when the lecture commenced. The theme was, “ The 
Plight of the Huguenots on the Revocation of the Edict 
of Nantes; ” and the speaker brought to this subject all 
his profound historical research, the splendor of his 
genius, and the powerful magnetism of his sympa- 
thies. 

The light, humming audience were fascinated by the 
power of the man’s eloquence. The blackness of that 
night of persecution of men and women, and little chil- 
dren hunted to the death, driven to the galleys, worried 
and tortured for conscience’ sake, swept its awful trag- 
edy along the foreground for one moment, and all that is 
beautiful in faith, resignation, and self-sacrifice, under 
cruellest suffering, flashed out the next, — the pictures re- 
minding one of John Knox’s stories of Scottish Life in 
the sixteenth century, shining and quivering with laugh- 
ter and with tears. ' It was a kind of eloquence to w T hich 
Jessamine Holland had never before listened in her life, 
and it wrought like magic in the girl. At times the rapt 
audience would draw its breath, and cheer the speaker, 
and Jessamine, who had drawn off her gloves uncon- 
sciously while she listened, brought her soft, pink palms 


THE HOLLANDS. 


123 


together, and clapped as eagerly, if not as audibly, as any 
of the others. It was a pretty sight to see her, if any- 
body was taking notice at the time, — a kind of childlike 
grace and downrightness in the movement that was 
amusing enough. 

o o 

“None of my sisters would do that,” thought Eva, 
“but I like to see Miss Holland, anyhow; ” and then 
she looked at Duke, who was evidenly enjoying their 
companion’s enthusiasm. . 

Somebody else, too, was quietly observing the girl, — a 
gentleman who sat on the other side of the aisle. He 
was past middle life, with a grizzled beard and hair 
about a fine, thoughtful face ; if its youth was gone, 
there was something left which atoned for the loss ; the 
eyes, sharp and penetrating, under the bushy brows. 
They watched J essamine keenly now, the owner thinking 
to himself, in a kind of loose, disjointed fashion : “ Wom- 
en are so polished and artificial nowadays, no getting 
to any sound core of what is in them. I like that girl 
over there ; fresh, simple, natural as a brier-rose growing 
near a mountain stream. Quite a fanciful simile for 
an old man like you, John Wilbur; but the heart in you 
hasn’t grown cold yet, only steadier, steadier.” 

Afterward, the gentleman turned many times to look 
at the face of Jessamine Holland that evening. Hers 
followed the speaker ; all its power brought out that night 
the light in the clear, wide, brownish eyes, with deeps of 
blackness in. them ; the sensitive mouth, with the flush 
and the quiver all over it ; a glow on the cheeks that was 
not exactly color, but something better than that, a sud- 


124 


THE HOLLANDS. 


den smile breaking and steadying itself on the unsteady 
lips, as sunlight on a heap of fiery peach-blossoms, over 
which the wind has gone a moment before ; a smile, with 
the bright sweetness of a baby’s ; and then, the upturned 
face on the speaker’s, the smile would be dashed out, a 
grieved tenderness would settle % upon it, and you would 
need no looking to know that the eyes above them were 
thick with tears. 

There are such faces as Jessamine Holland’s in the 
world, but they are rare. Two such seem to shine before 
me while I write. I cannot think that the soul behind 
such a face could ever be anything but a fine, beautiful, 
womanly soul ; not that only, a nature whose birthright 
of all gracious gifts had been widened and deepened by 
culture. Yes, I repeat it, there are such faces as 
this of Jessamine Holland’s in the world, but they are 
rare. 

After the lecture, this strange gentleman inquired of a 
lady of his party who that girl was with young Walbridge 
and his sister ? 

“ A Miss Holland, who is stopping with them. It 
appears that her brother saved young Walbridge from 
drowning, at the risk of his own life. It was very heroic, 
and the Hollands have invited the young lady to pass 
the winter with them. Quite an interesting face, isn’t 
it?” 

“ Quite.” The gentleman was disposed to be mono- 
syllabic on this occasion, but he remembered that he 
had an invitation on the following, evening to a large 
party, where, no doubt, the Walbridges would be present. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


125 


The gentleman had resolved to decline the inritation, 
for, like most men of his age, he considered parties a bore ; 
but he now resolved to go. There would be a chance of 
his meeting this Miss Holland, and he wanted to know 
more of her. 

The next evening Jessamine Holland was presented to 
Mr. John Wilbur. They got on wonderfully well from 
the start. Jessamine always liked sensible men, and here 
was one, certainly : a man of good deal of culture too, 
and extensive travel, and who had something to say ; a 
polished gentleman, with a little touch of courtliness in 
his manners, which savored slightly of the old school, 
although Mr. Wilbur was not an old man yet, looking 
at the grizzly hair, and the fine, strong face under 
it. 

“ How much better he was,” Jessamine thought, “ than 
those dainty, perfumed gentlemen who were full of their 
silly, vapid talk and unmeaning flatteries, which had a 
sickly odor to her taste, much like flowers that have stood 
too long in water. This sort of men seemed to have a 
notion that any sensible conversation was as foreign to a 
woman’s tastes as it would be to a parrot’s, and so they 
dealt in a stock of silly compliments, which were worn 
threadbare with long use.” 

Eut the two got on wonderfully together, — ' Jessamine, 
bright, frank, earnest, as she always was when anybody 
gave her a chance. 

The lecture of the evening before proved a stepping- 
stone to a great deal of interesting and instructive talk. 
Mr. Wilbur having recently visited France, and several 


126 


THE HOLLANDS. 


of the cities which had witnessed, at the close of .the sev- 
enteenth century, some of the fiercest of the Huguenot 
persecutions, had a rare stock of information, which he 
had gathered there and in England regarding the fugi- 
tives ; and he found it a strong pleasure to talk to this 
girl * who sat before him, with her wide eyes on his face, 
her breath going and coming, with her questions as swift 
and as curious as any child’s. 

Mr. Wilbur took Jessamine out to supper, and would 
have offered to escort her home had not Duke arrived at 
the last moment. 

Mr. Wilbur’s attentions had not escaped Mrs. Wal- 
bridge, hut she kept her own counsel, only going over 
in her own mind all the points unquestionably in the 
gentleman’s favor. They were not a few, — intelligence, 
family, wealth, position; everything, in short, except 
youth, which weighed very lightly in the scale against 
so many advantages. 

Many a young girl of fortune and family has been 
taken to wife by an older and far less personally attract- 
ive man than John Wilbur. One, too, did not run those 
terrible risks which every mother must feel her daughter 
did in marrying a young man. In this case the character 
was shaped, the wealth and position defined, not spurs to 
be earned and won. 

Then, rich husbands, in New England, were not as 
thick as bees in swarming-time. Any mother, who had 
daughters whose future settlement in life must be a source 
of more or less anxiety to her, must have considered all 
these things. A young lady in Miss Holland’s position 


THE HOLLANDS. 


127 


would have a rare card fall to her share if she caught 
John' Wilbur. 

So the lady reasoned ; meanwhile resolving to keep 
her eyes open, and visions of an elegant wedding, and 
Mason Walbridge giving away the bride in his usual 
stately fashion, floated before her as a most desirable 
finale to this embarrassing business of the Hollands. 

After this, in one way and another, John Wilbur 
and J essamine Holland were brought frequently together. 

The Walbridges had a series of small dinner-parties, 
at which Mr. Wilbur was always a guest. The more 
Jessamine saw him the better she liked him. Their ac- 
quaintance grew rapidly into a certain kind of friendship. 
The approval of so intelligent and cultivated a man was 
really a great compliment to her, she told herself, with a 
little touch of vanity that was quite pardonable. But 
she had a relish for his talk. There was always some- 
thing new and solid about it. He made her talk, 
too, grave and serious sometimes as a little nun, and 
then brought to the surface the latent sparkle and play- 
fulness of her nature. 

She talked with Duke about the man, praising him in 
that natural, frank way which would have been impossi- 
ble “if she had had the slightest notion of his being a 
lover,” Mrs. Walbridge thought, who overheard the con- 
versation. 

Duke assented warmly. “ Wilbur was a fine, intelli- 
gent, noble-hearted fellow,” he said. “He had known 
him from a boy as the gentleman, and his father had some 
business relations at one time which had brought the fain- 


128 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ilies on an intimate footing. He went abroad, and his 
wife died there; and he had onl/ been at home at inter- 
vals since that time.” 

“ Love makes people keen-sighted. If Duke had any 
interest in Miss Holland beyond the fact of her being his 
friend’s sister, he would have observed Wilbur’s attentions 
to the girl, though nobody else had. - She, too, has no 
fancy that his attraction is of a serious character, although 
I am well satisfied of that ; but a great many matches 
are nipped in the bud by meddling. I will let things take 
their own course.” 

And Mrs. Walbridge fell to musing over Edith and her 
matters, in which just now the heart of the mother was 
more absorbed than in anything else. Duke was safe, 
she wanted to believe, and did. 

Meanwhile things took their own course, — a very 
smooth one, — Mr. Wilbur and Jessamine getting on a 
more friendly footing all the time. She told him in one 
way and another many things about her past life, and 
talked over Ross with him to her heart’s content. Mr. 
Wilbur had once passed a year in the East Indies, and 
here was another bond between the two. Jessamine was 
never tired of hearing about the strange, mysterious, 
wild, lavish life of the tropics. Its slow, hot winds, its 
fiery, throbbing life, its dazzling hues, seemed fairly to 
encircle her as she listened, her eyes darkening, her face 
uplifted. Mr. Wilbur saw it all, and had his own 
thoughts about it, which, being a reticent man, he kept 
to himself. 

The circle in which the Walbridges moved was quite 


THE HOLLANDS. 


129 


as alive to gossip as any beneath them ; but the intimacy 
betwixt Mr. Wilbur and Miss Holland was so far removed 
from anything like a flirtation, so straightforward and 
friendly, that nobody happened to dart on it. People 
who once heard fragments of their conversation fancied 
they liked to talk together ; and it was not singular ; 
Miss Holland had a wonderful gift at talking, and Mr. 
Wilbur was a man who liked sensible women. 

One evening, at a little quiet supper-party at the 
Walbridges, the gentleman said to Jessamine, “I have 
had letters from Paris, which will take me there a month 
earlier than I expected. I regret it very much just at 
this time.” 

“ Are you really going abroad? I am very sorry to 
hear that, Mr. Wilbur,” — voice and face touched with 
a real regret. 

The gentleman looked at her, with something in his 
eyes that brought a faint color into her cheeks. “ I am 
glad to hear you say that, Miss Holland,” he said, just 
as he had never spoken to her before. 

In a moment, however, he went on to talk about the 
journey, and how he was going to take a trip into Wales 
that summer ; and Jessamine listened as only those listen 
who have a real hunger for knowledge, growth, life ; and 
at last, drawing a little sigh, she said, as a little child 
might say it, u I wish I could go too.” 

The gentleman smiled on her. You felt he had a 
pleasant smile under that grizzled beard of his. It 
entered the dark, penetrating eyes, and gave them a new 
softness. 


130 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“ 1 wish you could go too, Miss Holland. What is 
there to prevent? ” 

“ Oh, a great many things,” answered Jessamine, 
thinking that, after all, the want of money was the 
chiefest obstacle in the way. ‘‘Perhaps some day my 
brother will come home and take me ; though I never 
get so far as that, Mr. Wilbur. A little nest of a 
cottage, with Ross and me together, fills up all my 
world.” 

Jessamine thought that evening, more than once, how 
sorry she was Mr. Wilbur was going to leave so soon. 
How much she should miss him ! It made her manner 
kinder to him than ever. Gentlemen in middle life, or 
a little past it, were so much more agreeable than young 
men, excepting Ross and Duke W albridge ; but neither 
of these were like other young men. 

“Mamma,” said Gertrude, next day, “I really believe 
Mr. Wilbur has taken a fancy to Miss Holland.” 

“ What makes you think so, my daughter ? ” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” exclaimed Edith, who could not 
imagine that two people could fall in love with each other 
without a certain amount of flirting, and an atmosphere 
of airs and graces on the woman’s side, at least. “ Mr. 
Wilbur likes to talk with Miss Holland ; but there’s no 
more falling in love than there would be if she and papa 
were to have a chat together. Indeed, theirs is on pre- 
cisely the same footing.” 

“ But I hardly think it is,” answered Gertrude, her 
opinion evidently a little shaken. “I watched them 
last night closely, and I thought Mr. Wilbur showed 


THE HOLLANDS. 


131 


a sort of interest in Miss Holland which papa would 
not.” 

“In love with. Miss Holland!” ejaculated Eva. 
“Why, Mr. Wilbur’s old enough to be her father.” 

“ Many a man who is that, marries a young woman, 
and makes her a most excellent husband,” added Mrs. 
Walbridge. 

“In every respect but that of years it would be a 
great catch for Miss Holland,” added the second daugh- 
ter. “ Mr. Wilbur is rich, influential, and all that.” 

Jessamine’s entrance at the moment put an end to 
the discussion of Mr. Wilbur’s qualifications for matri- 
mony. 

Two or three evenings later the individual in question 
called. It happened that most of the family were out, 
the gentlemen having gone to some corporation meeting, 
and the ladies to a concert. 

It therefore fell to Jessamine’s part to entertain her 
friend alone. Their talk went on smoothly as ever, and 
after a while touched again on the gentleman’s impending 
journey. 

“ You said something last evening, Miss Holland, which 
I liked so much that I have repeated it to myself many 
times since.” 

“You have? I cannot imagine my saying anything 
worth all that consideration ; ” her little indrawn laugh 
along the words, which he had come now to know, and 
like too. 

“It was that you wished you were going abroad 
also.” 


132 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“Oh, I often wish that , Mr. Wilbur ! There is such 
a world of novelty and splendor and beauty on the 
other side of the ocean ; and yet it is quite absurd, my 
wishing to see it, when it is as practicable as entering in 
at the gates of the moon.” 

“ Are you quite certain that you do not exaggerate 
the difficulties in your way, Miss Holland ? I, too, wish 
that you were going abroad.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Wilbur. It is very pleasant to have 
friends who wish one good things. But I do not exag- 
gerate the difficulties that stand in my way here. If I 
was rich, it would be quite another thing.” 

John Wilbur looked at the sweet face upturned to his. 
Its fine, delicate beauty had never struck him so forcibly 
before. 

“ Jessamine,” he said, “ I am a blunt man, and I can- 
not now go seeking for fine and dainty phrases into 
which to put my honest meaning. I wish you would 
let me take you with me when I go abroad — as my 
wife ! ” 

She stared at the man, not comprehending what he 
said. 

“I don’t think I understood you, Mr. Wilbur,” she 
said. 

“ I asked you if you would marry me.” 

A blankness, then a great heat all over her face. 
“ Why, I never dreamed you thought of anything like 
this.” 

“I know you did not, my child. I was certain all 
the time you saw r in me only a friend, who had something 


THE HOLLANDS. 


133 


to sa y that interested and amused you. You could not 
easily regard a man so old and grave in the light of a 
lover. But, J essamine, my heart is not old, and if you 
will come and nestle in it you shall find warmth and 
comfort there.” 

The heat in her face still, the brown eyes clouded with 
confusion and perplexity. She put her hand over them, 
her mouth all a-tremble. 

“I — it is all so strange and so sudden,” she stam- 
mered. 

“ Perhaps I ought to have waited, and smoothed the 
way to a declaration of this sort,” he said; “ but I had 
rather you would take time to think. You are a sensible 
little girl, and I will trust your instincts to point you to 
the truth.” And from that the man went on to speak for 
himself, of his boyhood and youth, of his early manhood, 
of ^he wife tenderly loved, whom he laid to sleep in a 
foreign land, and of the years that had followed, — lonely 
years, with all their worldly ease and prosperity. 

From this he came to speak of their future together. 
It was no worn, old, withered heart that he offered her. 
If she trusted it, she would find, it tender and thoughtful 
for her to the last. Then he dwelt on the new life it 
would be his delight to open to her, — a life of grace, ease, 
luxury, whose tale lingered in her ears like the music of 
fairy bells. She should have her day now. All that the 
fine, eager young soul panted for should be hers ; the Old 
World, with its wonders of Nature and its mysteries of 
Art, its pictures, its sculpture, its palaces, and its temples, 
should open its doors to her. With her own eyes she 


134 


THE HOLLANDS. 


should see what she had been told, as in a vision, by 
others. They would drift from one city to another, stop- 
ping to take in slow draughts of what each had to offer. 
He was certain that her heart, like his, must be lonely 
for a friend such as he could be to her ; she, with only 
that one brother, and the wide land and the wider sea 
betwixt them. Perhaps Ross could come to them, some 
time, and they could all dwell together and be happy. 

She had taken her hands from her face now ; the glis- 
tening eyes out of the -paleness showed plainly enough 
how the words moved her. She was dazzled and con- 
fused; and through all she heard John Wilbur’s voice, 
telling her what a tender, faithful friend he would be. 
Then a cloud of tears came into the soft brightness of her 
eyes ; for, after all, this friend was what the lonely, tired 
little heart needed most of all. 

“Will you come to me, Jessamine?” John Wilbur 
said, and rose up and put his hands out. 

Her look went all over the man as he stood there, — 
over his large, shapely figure ; over the fine, strong face ; 
over the grizzled hair and beard. He offered her every- 
thing after which her youth had goiie thirsting to cis- 
terns that held no water. The future spread before her ; 
the glittering slopes of the years, — the gold and the 
purple. Then the friend who stood there, generous, 
manly, noble, with his magician’s wand. She did not 
mind if his years more than doubled her own. Was not 
this what she wanted, — a heart steadfast and strong 
against which hers could lean its youth and weakness ? 
Had not God sent him ? 


THE HOLLANDS. 


135 


Her breath came in quick, hot gasps ; she half rose, 
her limbs trembled. 

“ Can you not trust me, my little friend? Can you 
not give your heart to me?” 

Her heart; yes, he would want that. She had no 
right to take his without giving hers in turn. She drew 
a long breath. “ I ought to love you a great deal, — • 
better even than Ross, and — and — ” 

“ I will not press you, child, for an answer. Let me 
come to-morrow or next day. I should want your heart, 
— I should not dare urge you to come to me without you 
could give me that ; but young girls do not always un- 
derstand. That might come in time, you know.” 

“ In time, — yes,” she said, doubtfully, as though it 
had not come yet, the face looking at him full of pain 
and perplexity. Then she caught eagerly at his promise 
to wait. 

“It had cotne so suddenly,” she stammered again. 
“ He must not be offended with her. As a friend, he 
was very dear to her ; and for the rest, only give her 
time, and she would deal truly with him.” 

“No airs nor vanities of any sort,” he noticed ; but a 
trouble in her face that unbent it like a child’s. Yet it 
was her first offer, and, despite the difference of their 
years, one that she might be proud of. 

She put up her hand now. in a tired, fluttering sort 
of way, to her forehead, the gesture showing, more than 
all which had gene before, how deeply she was moved. 

Then she held out both hands toward him ; her eyes 
were darkened with tears. “When a man offers a 


136 


THE HOLLANDS. 


woman all you have me to-night, it seems like an insult to 
thank him. Ah, my friend, you have made me feel 
humbler than I ever did in my life before.” 

“ I had rather hear you say you felt proud and glad, my 
child,” taking the hands, and hiding them away in his 
warm ones. “But it is an honest little heart, i can 
trust it. Whatever its answer is, it will be true to itself, 
• — to me also.” And he went away. 

Jessamine was tired in every nerve of her body. She 
could not think now ; and she went upstairs, only add- 
ing to the prayer which Ross and she used to make to- 
gether at nightfall, and which she always said to herself 
in any time of joy, or trouble, or perplexity, because it 
seemed to bring the fresh child-heart into her again, — only 
adding to that a prayer that God would show her the way 
which was best and wisest for herself and for him also ; 
and then she laid her head on her pillow, and fell into a 
sleep that was like the sound, sweet slumber of her child- 
hood. 

The next morning, Jessamine woke up with a vague 
feeling that a great crisis of her fate was at hand. In a 
few moments all that had passed the night before cleared 
itself to her memory. 

“ J ohn Wilbur’s wife ! ” She said the words over once 
or twice to herself before she rose, trying how they 
sounded, with a little smile and blush ; but there was no 
thrill in her pulses, no transport at her heart. 

She thought of all this man had offered her, — home, 
wealth, luxury, tenderness, — all that her youth had 
pined for. She felt unutterably grateful to him. How 


THE HOLLANDS. 


137 


beautiful that new life which he had promised looked to 
her, — like a fair country into which her soul could go 
and take possession, saying to itself, “No more loneliness 
and poverty, nor longing ! ” 

“But did she love this man? That was the vital 
question,” — moving her limbs restlessly. He must have 
her heart, — his words coming back, — “he would not 
dare to urge her to come without that.” He ought to 
be first and dearest; and John Wilbur could never be 
that to her ; he could never be what Ross was ; and she 
had a vague prescience that her heart held some depth 
of tenderness and devotion which even Ross had never 
sounded. 

Yet she liked Mr. Wilbur very, very much ; liked to 
be near him, to hear him talk. It would be a very de- 
lightful thing to go all over the world with him, to see 
everything that was worth seeing, and, after all, would 
she ever find anybody else whom she could care for more 
of than she did for this man, who never bored her, 
whose presence was always agreeable to her? 

J essamine dressed herself that morning with a great 
doubt in her soul. Mrs. Walbridge watched the girl 
narrowly at breakfast. The lady was keen-scented in 
matters of this sort, and Eva had told her that Mr. Wil- 
bur had been there the evening before, and there had 
been nobody but Miss Holland to entertain him, as the 
family were out, and Eva had been occupied with her 
lessons. Miss Holland had gone upstairs almost imme- 
diately after Mr. Wilbur left, saying she felt tired. 

“How long did he stay, dear?” while the girls 
-12 


138 


THE HOLLANDS. 


were chattering like magpies over the concert, and paid 
no heed to what Eva was saying. 

“ I don’t know precisely ; but it might have been a 
couple of hours; at any rate, a good while.” 

Mrs. Walbridge said no more ; but she put Eva’s ti- 
dings with some observations and suspicions of her own, 
and the joints fitted nicely. The lady’s keen scrutiny 
of Jessamine confirmed her impressions. The girl was 
restless and abstracted. Mrs. Walbridge felt that Jessa- 
mine’s youth and inexperience needed a friend now; 
all young girls did at such junctures in their lives, and 
the lady had no doubt of being fully qualified to act the 
part of judicious confidant and adviser at this time. She 
had never felt quite so friendly toward Jessamine Hol- 
land as she did that morning. She recalled the fact 
that here was a young, motherless girl under her roof, 
who had now to decide the most important question of a 
woman’s life. 

Of course Mrs. Walbridge could not offer her advice 
unsolicited, and J essamine might shrink from a disclos- 
ure of her secret ; but the lady would bide her time, 
and make the way easy for the girl. There was a severe 
snow-fall that morning, which kept them all in-doors. 
It was a day for warm, cosey home-nestling in corners 
and groups, — one of those days which bring to the sur- 
face of household talk many a hidden sympathy, feeling, 
conviction, that has never seen the light before. 

Everything aided Mrs. Walbridge’s purpose. The 
girls brought their books, drawings, and dainty attempts 
at sewing, into a corner. Some gossip about engagements 


THE HOLLANDS. 


139 


started the conversation, and Mrs. Walbridge availed her- 
self of this to make some general statements about love as 
young girls fancy it, which sounded very sensibly, and 
might fit the case in point. She was not mistaken : J es- 
samine put down her sewing, and turned toward the lady 
with a half-suppressed eagerness in her face. 

Edith, however, was not done with the gossip. She 
went on, heedless of her mother’s remarks. “ She has 
had so many offers, and, to my mind, she has taken up 
with the poorest of the lot.” 

The elegant Edith sometimes seasoned her remarks 
with a little coarseness, which surprised Jessamine. 

The girl turned a shocked face on the speaker. “ How 
very unpleasant it must be for the lady to feel the world 
knows all about the offers !” 

Edith’s light, sceptical laugh answered with her words, 
— “I don’t think the lady would be at all distressed 
over that fact, as she has confided each offer to hosts of 
her friends.” 

Jessamine’s face flushed indignantly. “ I should think 
it most dishonorable to betray a man’s confidence in that 
way.” 

“ Those things, of course, are not to be made public,” 
answered Mrs. Walbridge. “ But all young ladies, at 
such times, need the counsel of some friend of wider 
knowledge and experience than themselves ; and if they 
do not choose wisely, the whole thing is very likely to 
be made common gossip.” 

“ But, mamma, I thought young ladies told their offers, 
and had a great deal of pride in it. I know some who 


140 


THE HOLLANDS . 


do, anyhow,” — with a significant glance in the direction 
of her elder sisters. 

“ Daughter,” said Mrs. Walbridge, with unusual 
severity, “ it is better for little girls never to talk upon 
matters about which they know nothing.” 

Jessamine’s look had turned on the lady a moment, and 
rested there. The lonely, perplexed heart within her 
needed some friend stronger and wiser than itself to trust 
in this great strait. She thought of Hannah Bray, with 
her strong native sense and warm, motherly heart, and 
wished she could go and lay down her head on the coarse 
gingham apron, and tell her story, sure of getting up 
steadier and clearer at the end. There was a motherless 
pain in the girl’s heart at that moment. 

There sat the lady with her mild, pleasant face, and 
her modulated tones. She was certain that Mrs. Wal- 
bridge would listen kindly and interested to all Jessa- 
mine might say. 

But a little shiver came over the girl as she looked. 
There was something which she wanted that was not in 
this woman to give. She could hardly define what, hut 
she felt it ; something homely, real, tender. J essamine 
drew a long breath. Wherever the truth lay, she must 
seek it for herself, alone. 

Mrs. Walbridge had seen the look, and fancied she 
divined its meaning. In a few moments she rose and 
went into the conservatory, and her voice presently came 
back. “ Won’t you do me the favor to walk in here, Miss 
Jessamine? I want to show you how the orange-trees 
have blossomed within a few days.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


141 


Of course, J essamine went. 

There was something a little unusual in the bland 
kindness of Mrs. Walbridge’s manner, while the two were 
in the conservatory together that morning. 

As the girl stood there, in the midst of all the color 
and fragrance that made a bit of hot midsummer in the 
heart of the stormy winter day, the lady said, with her 
pleasantest smile, pointing to the clusters of snowy blos- 
soms among the dark burnished green of the leaves : — 

“ You know the tradition of orange-flowers, my dear. 
For myself, I must own I have an affection for them on 
that account, and I never see a heap of these in full 
bloom, without feeling an impulse at my fingers’ ends to 
twine -them into a bridal wreath, fancying, too, some fair, 
young face all smiles and blushes beneath them. Some 
day, my dear Miss J essamine, I hope I shall have the 
pleasure of twining my blossoms here ; ” and she actually 
touched the soft hair with her fingers. 

Certainly this was “opening the door” with a tact 
worthy of Mrs. Walbridge. Jessamine glanced up at 
the lady again, some feeling flushing and stirring her 
face. 

She was on the very point of speaking ; but something 
held the words back, for which Mrs. Walbridge, seeing 
the movement, stood confidently waiting. 

Jessamine half drew and smothered a sigh. It seemed 
as though her words were stubborn, and would not come 
though she wanted them. They would have come quick 
enough to Hannah Bray though. 

Mrs. Walbridge was a good deal chagrined, when, after 


142 


THE HOLLANDS. 


a little further talk over the flowers. Miss Holland went 
up to her room. 

“ I thought she certainly would speak then,” said the 
lady to herself. “ She seemed on the very point of it 
too. What could have held her back ? If, after all, she 
should let John Wilbur slip, what a golden chance she 
would lose ! I wanted to tell her this ; but one could 
hardly venture so far as that without the slightest en- 
couragement. There is doubt at work in her mind, I see ; 
probably his age, or some romantic notion about love, 
which young girls are very apt to have. I hope she will 
act wisely for herself in this case ; for, of course, it is her 
own interest solely that I regard.” 

Meanwhile the object of Mrs. Walbridge’s solicitude 
was walking up and down her room, her hands behind 
her, as had been her habit from her childhood, when in 
any trouble or perplexity, — a habit which sat with such a 
quaint, odd air on the small figure, that it had been 
vastly amusing to older people. 

Jessamine heard the crying of the winds outside, and 
sometimes she went and looked out through the thick 
driving of the snow, and up to the gray solid mass of 
cloud overhead, — a sweet, troubled, delicate face at the 
window-pane : the girl thinking how, under all the blasts, 
and cold, and darkness, lay waiting the wonderful Eden 
of summer, — the green leaves, the slipping of streams 
among the hill-sides, the springing of grass, the glory of 
flowers, the singing of the birds through the golden air. 
If all that could afford to wait God’s time, so could she ; 
neither storm nor darkness should chill her. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


143 


Under the drifting of these thoughts was another, not 
coming and going, but asking her soul all the time : 
“Jessamine Holland, are you going to marry this man, 
John Wilbur ?'” 

She turned and faced it now, as it loomed up before 
her, resuming her walk, her soft palms locked together 
behind her. 

Did she love him ? She began to see that her fate 
hinged on that point, — that respect, friendliness, trust 
even, were not that other thb g. 

She did not love that man as she loved Ross, — never 
could. If that brother of hers should come to her with- 
out a friend or a dollar, forgotten and forsaken of all men 
and women, her hungry heart would still cling to him 
out of all the world, holding him crowned, beloved, and 
precious. 

But strip John Wilbur of all the world gave him, — 
wealth, position, influence, — and what would he be to 
her ? A friend whose character she might honor, whose 
sorrows she might pity ; but beyond that, — nothing. 
Why was it, then, that the prospect of being John Wil- 
bur’s wife had in it something very pleasant ? Because, 
and solely because, he could give her what her soul and 
senses craved, — wealth, luxury, ease. For these things 
she would marry him, and not for himself. Her way 
began to clear now. For these things — these flesh-pots 
of JEgypt — she had no right to sell herself. It was 
giving up, it is true, something that only God and her 
own soul knew how much she hungered for. Once the old 
life at Hannah Bray’s rose, in all its bare, stark dreari- 


144 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ness before her, barer and drearier than ever, now she 
had had a glimpse into this new one. 

The tears came into her eyes. It seemed so very 
hard. If she could only love John Wilbur just a little. 
But it was no use to try. She had no right to share his 
wealth, the grace and splendor in which he would set her. 
They were not hers. She would not sell her birthright 
for them. Could she go to the altar, knowing in her secret 
soul that it was the man’s wealth, not himself, whom she 
married ? It would be sin. She would not lift herself 
out of her poverty and her loneliness by a false marriage, 
any more than she would help herself to heaps of un- 
counted gold which lay in her path, and which belonged 
to another. In either case she would be a thief, and she, 
J essamine Holland, might go mourning to her death for 
the good things of this life j but she would come by them 
honestly, or not at all. 

So she had come into the light at last. This was the 
wisdom for which she had prayed last night. Yet it is 
not always given to women in such straits as hers. 

There came a time long afterward when Jessamine 
Holland looked back and saw that her soul would not have 
answered so promptly and absolutely her solemn ques- 
tion, if, altogether unconsciously to herself, there had not 
hovered over her the prescience of what areal love meant. 

Mr. Wilbur came the evening of the following day. 
Jessamine was talking with Duke at the moment, Eva 
fluttering between them as usual. 

The waiter came toward the group, and said, in a low 
voice, that Mr. Wilbur desired to see Miss Holland in 


rHE HOLLANDS. 


145 

the parlor. The man evidently had an intuition, that, 
friendly as was the gentleman’s footing in the Walbridge 
family, this visit was intended solely for the young lady. 

Duke and Eva stared, and Jessamine, feeling, with a 
sudden sinking of heart, that her time had come, made 
some apology, and hurried up to her own room a moment 
to collect her thoughts before she went down into the 
parlor. 

You must remember that it was this girl’s first offer ; 
and Jessamine was very much of a woman, with all the 
truth and courage which lay wrought up in that warm 
little heart of hers. She would have been more or less 
than one, had she not felt keenly the great compliment 
which Mr. Wilbur’s choice had paid her, choosing the 
little, quiet country girl from amid all the accomplished 
and elegant young ladies in the Walbridge circle. 

She stood a moment before the mirror, and she realized, 
as she had never done before, that the face which smiled 
on her was a very fair one. She smoothed the dark hair 
about it ; and then, opening her drawer, took out a puff 
of Valenciennes lace, which had been one of her Christ- 
mas gifts, and gathered the snowy laces about her throat. 
Then her conscience, swift and sensitive, called to her, 
“Jessamine, Jessamine, what are you doing that for? 
Why do you seek to look fair in the eyes of this man, 
whose offer you are now to refuse? Are you weak 
enough to try to enhance your value and his loss at this 
moment ? It is your duty to take no pains with yourself 
this night; it would be nobler to try and look as homely 
as you can.” 


13 


146 


THE HOLLANDS. 


There was a little struggle, — she was very human, as 
I said, — then she took up a plain linen collar and 
pinned at her throat ; not even the bit of color there 
which she usually wore ; but that was atoned for by the 
flush in her cheeks as she went downstairs. 

“I believe,” said Eva, drawing near to Duke as Jes- 
samine left the room, “ that what Gertrude said the other 
day was true, after all.” 

“ What did she say, Eva ? ” 

“ That she thought Mr. Wilbur had taken a real fancy 
to Miss Jessamine. It looks like it now, his just calling 
and asking for her alone, leaving out all the rest of us. 
I think it would be sort of nice if — if — now — ” 

“ If what? ” asked Duke, in a very curt tone. 

“ Why, if they should like each other, and something 
serious should come of it,” answered Eva, who had a 
young girl’s natural fondness for lovers and weddings, 
and who had been brought over to her mother’s way of 
thinking, “that the age was no great matter, after all.” 

“It is too absurd to enter anybody’s thought,” an- 
swered Duke, in his most positive and provoking way. 
“ A man old enough to be her grandfather ! When 
girls get to talking, they never show common sense.” 

Eva bridled a little at this sweeping condemnation of 
her sex. 

“Girls usually see a good deal quicker into such mat- 
ters than men, anyhow; and as for Mr. Wilbur, if he 
isn’t young he’s everything else that’s nice and good, and 
I would sooner marry him to-night than most of the gen- 
tlemen whom I know.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


14T 


Mr. Wilbur and Eva had, from the beginning, been on 
excellent terms. 

“ You’re a child, Eva, and don’t know what you are 
talking about.” 

Eva’s amiability was a good deal nettled by this time, 
and it must be admitted not without provocation. “ If I 
am such a child, Duke Walbridge,” she said, very 
spiritedly, “ I am just over fifteen, and I don’t think that 
is a very infantile age anyhow.” 

“ Nobody would suspect that from your looks or ac- 
tions.” 

What had come over Duke to-night ? He was not in 
the habit of talking in this way to his favorite little 
sister. Eva felt a little hurt, looking up into her brother’s 
face, which had settled into something stern and hard as 
his voice. There was no use talking to him now ; and 
she went off to join her sisters at the other end of the 
room, and communicate Mr. Wilbur’s arrival. 

Meanwhile, Duke Walbridge sat still, as though he had 
been turned suddenly to stone in his chair. But beneath 
all the hard whiteness there was a hot life and pain, such 
as he had never known before. It had come there in the 
last few moments. What could it mean ? He thought 
of John Wilbur with a sudden flash of hatred, as though 
the man had done him some horrible wrong ; the man 
who had been an especial favorite of Duke’s all through 
the latter’s boyhood. He heard Jessamine Holland’s 
feet coming down the stairs. He thirsted to go out and 
drag her inside the door, from the very presence of the 
man who was waiting below. He drew his breath hard 


148 


THE HOLLANDS. 


as, listening intently, he heard her enter the room and 
the door close. 

AY hat did it mean that the sister of Ross Holland had 
power thus to shake his soul to its centre? Was she 
something to him beyond this, — the sister of the friend 
who had almost given his life for him ? 

Duke Walbridge winced under this question which rose 
in the silence of his soul, and he covered his eyes with 
his hand, while the blood came darkly into his cheeks, 
and his heart throbbed like a frightened woman’s. Then 
he thought of Jessamine, and something unutterably 
strong, and sweet, and tender, flooded his soul. Whether 
it was bliss or pain he could not tell ; but it was an ex- 
quisite delight, which made him feel manlier and braver, 
and yet humbler and tenderer toward all the world. 

“What does it mean? W hat does it mean ? ” The 
question going restless and hungry to and fro in his 
thought, like winds that fall and rise before a storm ; 
and at last he answered, softly, with some feeling which 
brought the tears into his eyes, “It means that Hove 
you , 0 Jessamine Holland /’ 1 

Mr. Wilbur came straight toward the girl, as she 
entered the parlor; he gave her both his hands, his intent 
eyes on her face. Despite the linen collar and the lack 
of color, he thought he had never seen her look quite so 
pretty before. 

“ Well, my little friend, have you decided? ” he asked. 

All the surface vanity and flutterings had slipped 
away now. She was a woman, with a solemn duty before 
her. She felt very sorry for him — very sorry for her- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


149 


self, too, wondering which would find it the harder to 
bear. 

“ Yes, Mr. Wilbur,” said the sweet, steady, sorrowful 
voice, “I have decided.” 

He knew then that it had gone against him. His face 
changed ; he drew back from her. t; You will not come 
to me, Jessamine? ” — a great regret in his tones. 

Then she told him the simple truth ; that she could not 
come without her heart ; she had tried to bring him 
that, but it could not be. 

He tried to argue with her. “ Young girls were ro- 
mantic ; and a grave, practical man, such as he was, 
could not expect to inspire the ardent affection that a 
young lover would. But he would be content to wait for 
that, and he believed his tenderness and devotion could 
make her happiness, and win her love in time.” 

She feared she was swaying as she listened. All that 
he said seemed so natural, so true. The color went 
down in her face, the tears came into her eyes. There 
was something yet which she had held back. She told 
him that now ; held up before him her past life, with its 
loneliness, deprivation on every side; and then she showed 
to him what the life he offered to her must be in contrast ; 
all the ease, grace, luxury, the world abroad, — the sights 
and sounds for which she hungered. 

“ Yet,” lifting up the moved face, bright through all 
its paleness, “ do not tempt me, Mr. Wilbur; I cannot do 
you and my own soul the great wrong to take what I 
have no right to, bringing you no heart in return. All 
the time I should be certain that I was selling myself foi 


150 


THE HOLLANDS. 


your wealth ; that it was that and not jou I married. 
Y ou are a strong man. Be pitiful to me. Help me to 
be true to myself.” 

He was walking up and down the room drinking in 
every word. He came now and stood before her. 
“Jessamine,” he said, “I will love at the beginning 
enough for us both. You will give me your confidence, 
your friendship. I will be content with that at first, 
believing that in due time my reward will come.” 

For a moment she swayed toward him again. That 
warm, glowing life beyond stood smiling and waiting for 
her. She had dealt truly by him, and if, out of the 
abundance of his love and generosity, he was willing to 
take her as she must come, why should she hesitate ? 

But as she sat there looking at him, with her pale, 
perplexed face, some other thought came to her help ; a 
moment afterward it was embodied in her answer. “No,” 
she said, shaking her head' slowly, “ it is I that must 
speak for both of us, — I that must be too truly your 
friend, Mr. Wilbur, to let you do yourself this great 
wrong. You are worthy of a woman’s whole heart; 
your tenderness and devotion deserve it. Be satisfied 
with no less. If, tempted by all you promise me, I should 
consent to be your wife against my highest convictions, 
it would not be myself that you would take, but some- 
thing lowered, untrue, false forever afterward. 

“Iam tired for rest, I am sick for freedom. I am 
starved for life’s grace and beauty, and the old life makes 
me shiver as I think of going down into its cold and bar- 
renness, and the one you offer me lies fair as a very 


THE HOLLANDS. 


151 


garden of Eden before me. But I dare not go in ; before 
God, I dare not ! Have pity upon me. Be a man, and 
help me ; for you can never know all it costs me to refuse 
this you have asked.” 

Her hands clasped, her wet face shining up to him 
through its tears. It roused whatever was generous and 
noble in the man. Pie came toward her, he took her 
little hands in his : — 

“ My little friend, whom I would have more to me, — 
but it cannot be, — you have been true and brave to-night, 
and God will bless you for it. It has been a hard dis- 
appointment to me ; but for all that I feel that you are in 
the right, and that in the end I could never be happy 
with the wife who did not bring me her heart.” 

He stopped here and looked at her ; he longed to tell 
her how freely his ample means were still at her disposal; 
how it would delight him to set her youth in pleasant 
paths afar from those lonely, barren ones, where she had 
walked so long, but something in her face held his words 
back. 

He drew her to him, kissed her forehead tenderly, put 
his cheek down to hers, and said, u Good-by, Jessamine,” 
in a way that told her it was for the last time, and then 
went away. 

Duke knew that Mr. Wilbur had been gone more than 
an hour, when Jessamine re-entered the sitting-room. 
She came back in her soft way, with some little serious- 
ness in her face. Everybody looked up, for everybody 
had a suspicion what John Wilbur's errand had been that 
night. 


152 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Mrs. Walbridge was secretly uneasy and curious ; that 
lady haying been out when Mr. Wilbur called; but the 
girls had confided the fact to their mother, on her return, 
with characteristic comments. Jessamine’s manner had 
of late puzzled the lady a good deal. Mrs. Walbridge 
prided herself on her discernment, but she could not make 
up her own mind whether Jessamine Holland was going 
to accept Mr. Wilbur or not. She had a kind of feeling 
that the girl would do her a personal wrong by refusing 
him, although she never admitted this to herself even. 

“ Has Mr. Wilbur gone? ” said Eva, almost as soon as 
Jessamine entered; a question which nobody else had 
courage to ask. 

“ Oh, yes; he left more than an hour ago,” was the 
quiet answer. 

Then everybody knew. Mrs. Walbridge was secretly 
exasperated. 

“ That girl must set a very high value on herself, to 
refuse a man like J ohn Wilbur. Why, if he had wanted 
my Edith, I don’t think I should have demurred.” 

Happily Jessamine suspected nothing of what was 
going on in the thoughts of the people about her. 

“ I began to think you were not coming back this even- 
ing, Miss Jessamine,” said Duke, as she took her seat. 
He said it in his kindest way, but then she was used to 
kind sayings from Duke, because she was Ross Holland’s 
sister, she supposed. 

Just now, however, she felt singularly forlorn and 
homesick ; remembering, too, that the only home she had 
was the little bare room under Hannah Bray’s roof. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


153 


“Why, have you missed me?” she asked, half ab- 
sently, as perhaps she would not had she stopped to 
think twice. 

“ Oh, yes ; I have missed you very much, Miss Jessa- 
mine.” He spoke the word low, and with some singular 
emphasis of tone that roused her. 

She looked up in his eyes, and he smiled on her, his 
own rare smile of lips and eyes. 

It entered her heart like light. It brought the soft 
flush into her cheeks. 

Somehow Duke felt quite at ease now about John 
Wilbur. 

Then they all three fell into the old mood of talking, 
only softer and graver than usual, it seemed to J essamine ; 
and she went to her room that night with a heart com- 
forted and lighter, she could not tell why. 


154 


THE HOLLANDS 


CHAPTER XI. 

Again there was company at the Walbridges. This 
time the arrivals were from New York. A young lady, 
the only daughter and heiress of a retired banker, ‘ 1 a 
man whose figures would not foot up short of a million,” 
to quote Mr. Walbridge literally. The young lady was 
accompanied by her aunt, her mother having died several 
years previous to this visit. Mrs. Ashburn, sister of the 
latter, herself a widow, had long resided in the elegant 
home of her brother-in-law. 

The lady had been a youthful companion of Mrs. 
Walbridge, and the intimacy between the families had 
survived the tests of matrimony and maternity. 

This aunt was a pleasant, conventional woman of the 
commonplace type. Given the antecedents of wealth, 
good-breeding, and fashionable society, and the ordinary 
material is pretty certain to turn out the mould of Mrs. 
Ashburn. ■ The lady had no children of her own, and 
her sister’s daughter was her idol. Indeed, Mrs. Ashburn 
was just fitted to act the role of a doating, most indul- 
gent aunt. 

Margafet Wheatley, sole heiress of the banker’s million, 
now in her early twenties, was held in society a very 


THE HOLLANDS. 


155 


irresistible girl ; indeed, she was of the sort to which 
young men always apply inflated adjectives. 

I never could bring myself to call her beautiful, in 
the highest sense of that term ; yet I confess to sitting 
for a half hour together watching the girl, and trying to 
analyze the charm of her face and manner. She always 
perplexed me. Even now I find it difficult to paint her 
physical and moral lineaments for you. Yet, come to 
test her by anything which she would ever accomplish 
in the world, Margaret Wheatley was not remarkable. 
There were no strong forces of heart, soul, mind, in the 
woman. 

But there was some subtle personal charm about her, — 
a charm of speech, motion, manner, which must be taken 
into large account. She was all glow, grace, life. The 
white skin, with its clear, wonderful bloom ; the blue, 
large eyes ; the deep gold of the hair ; the lithe, graceful 
figure, made their own picture. 

There was a brightness, a piquancy in her talk and 
laughter, which trebled the effect, and which seemed as 
purely natural as the fragrance which a newly-opened 
rose pours out from its life into the sunshine of some 
June morning. 

How often I have watched Margaret Wheatley, asking 
myself whether this bright, singular attractiveness of hers 
was a thing of nature or of art, never without a little secret 
twinge of remorse before I left the question ; and to this 
day I have never answered it to my own satisfaction. 
But, at any rate, it served its purpose in the world. 

Perhaps, if you come to look closely into the matter, 


156 


THE HOLLANDS. 


the long preservation of the Walbridge and Wheatley 
friendship owed itself as much to the social prosperity 
and dignity of both houses as to anything else. Adver- 
sity on either side would have been likely to chill it ; but 
it flourished greenly during its long summer, the ladies 
seldom visiting the city without passing a few days at the 
elegant up-town mansion of the banker. 

This visit of Margaret and her aunt, though long solic- 
ited, occurred rather unexpectedly. The truth is, the 
father had taken a sudden alarm at the gay life and late 
hours in which his daughter was indulging. 

The season was not half through, and, looking up the 
splendid vista, the banker saw a vast avalanche of gaye- 
ties and fashionable dissipations about to overwhelm his 
daughter. That, at least, was the way in which it 
looked in his eyes, and the man resolved on a sudden 
retreat. 

u The child will he broken down before the winter is 
over,” he said to his sister-in-law. “ Get her out of all 
this.” 

So there were a few telegrams exchanged ; and so it 
came to pass that Margaret Wheatley came in midwinter 
to the Walbridges. 

No girl, unless it might he Jessamine Holland, in a 
totally different way, had ever got on so well with Duke 
as did this Margaret Wheatley. She was not just like 
other girls ; she amused and interested him. She talked 
with him just as freely as she did with his sisters, without 
any apparent affectation, certainly without any morbid 
self-consciousness ; for all of which Duke liked her. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


157 


Then there was the old family friendship, which was a 
tie of more or less strength between them. 

Margaret, it is true, had not visited at the Walbridges 
since she was a little girl, when Duke had been her 
cavalier on all occasions. They had hardly met since 
that time, but there were old memories to renew, which 
Margaret did, bringing out their lights in that pleasant 
sparkle of talk, which, if you came to remember it after- 
ward, or to write it down, would sound very trifling ; but 
then Duke enjoyed it at the time, and — so did everybody 
else. 

It was gayer than ever at the Walbridges. What a 
bright, long holiday life was, Jessamine thought, with 
such people as these ! She never could have conceived 
anything like it in the old days in Hannah Bray’s cot- 
tage. She must go back to that before long, with a 
little shiver. “ But I will take what the good God sends 
me now,” bravely and wisely putting the rest behind 
her. 

She was glad, too, that Margaret Wheatley had come. 
The two girls got on remarkably well together, though I 
think they were both something of a perplexity to the 
other, provided Margaret Wheatley ever could be per- 
plexed about anything; and here again I am in the 
dark. 

A million of dollars, however, was something that 
Jessamine’s thought was forever tugging at, but never 
grasping. It seemed to her such an infinite amount 
of money, that the wonder was, anybody could be 
comfortable under its weight, could go to sleep in the 


158 


THE HOLLANDS. 


nights and rise up in the mornings, and sail smoothly 
along the days under such overwhelming possessions and 
responsibilities. It was evident nothing of that sort 
disturbed Margaret Wheatley; “but then she was nur^ 
tured in riches, and I in poverty,” mused Jessamine 
Holland; “that makes the difference between us.” 

It seemed to Jessamine, too, about these days, that 
there grew up something fainter than a shadow betwixt 
her and Duke Walbridge. She tried to shake off the 
impression, would not admit it even to herself, but we 
know how very faint a film of cloud will blur out some 
of the stars ; and sometimes, it seemed to J essamine 
that she missed some of the stars, a very few, from her 
sky. 

Duke’s care and attention suffered no abatement; but 
was it fancy that their talk did not flow quite so easily 
as before ; that there was some reserve in his manner ? 
“ Of course it was,” Jessamine said to herself. 

But she w r as not correct here. From the moment 
that Knowledge, awful in its power and meaning, had 
shone upon the soul of Duke Walbridge, some new 
reverence and awe toward the woman, whom of all the 
world he loved, had taken possession of him. He could 
not look at her, treat her with quite the old freedom, 
when she was so sacred and set apart in his thought, in 
his heart. 

He felt, too, a new sense of unworthiness in J essamine’s 
presence, as though he had been guilty of temerity in 
daring to love her. Should he ever take courage to tell 
her of this? his breath always choking when he thought 


THE HOLLANDS. 


159 


of it, and so there was a certain relief in turning to Mar- 
garet Wheatley, and taking in the cool, fresh breezes of 
her talk, though all the time Duke’s ear was strung to 
the slightest note of one voice, to the sound of one foot- 
fall ; he knew when it went and when it came, and what 
it brought and carried with it. 

Meantime other eyes and ears were alive to Duke’s 
intimacy with the heiress of a million. The words 
sounded very pleasantly to Mrs. Walbridge. She knew 
all they represented of splendor, influence, power. 

I ‘Mother,” said Edith, one day when the two ladies 
were alone for a half hour, “a bright idea has popped 
into my head.” 

“Well, dear, what is it?” 

“ If our Duke now, would only fall in love with Mar- 
garet, what a splendid thing it would be ! — a million of 
dollars doesn’t often come with a bride’s hand ; but it’s 
locked up in hers, and some family must have the fortune, 
and I don’t see why we haven’t as good a right to it as 
anybody else.” 

“ I see no reason why we have not ; but Duke is such 
a curious compound I can never fancy him falling in love 
with any woman, and long ago I devoted him to old 
bachelordom.” 

I I He’s so odd and obstinate, one wouldn’t dare to ap- 
proach the matter with him, just as one would with most 
people, I know,” said Edith; “but, with such a chance 
as this, it is a burning shame to let it slip, — just think, 
mamma, a million of dollars ! ” 

“ I know. Nothing would gratify me more than to 


160 


THE HOLLANDS. 


have Margaret Wheatley for my daughter-in-law. She 
is in all respects the kind of wife I should select for 
Duke ; but sons do not often consult their mothers’ tastes 
in that regard, and Duke must choose for himself.” 

Mrs. Walbridge was not aware that the banker’s mil- 
lion gave additional lustre to the daughter’s virtues and 
graces. 

“ Do you mean, mamma, that you have ever suspected 
Duke fancied Jessamine Holland? ” 

“I have never made up my mind that he did ; although, 
if the relations betwixt them were not just what they 
are, I should long ago have feared the result of their 
intimacy. But under the circumstances I could not in- 
terfere.” 

“ Well,” said Edith, with a great deal of tart decision, 
“ nothing would provoke me more than to find the wind 
set in that quarter. If her brother did save the life of 
mine, that is no reason I should want her for a sister-in- 
law, as I can see.” 

“ That is very true, my dear. I was strongly annoyed 
at Miss Holland’s declining the offer which I am per- 
suaded she received the other night. I have felt some 
anxiety lest a regard for Duke had something to do with 
the refusal.” 

“ She’s not coming into the family if I can prevent 
it,” — complacently surveying the small foot encased in 
an elegant slipper. “What would she bring to us? 
Neither family, position, wealth, anything that we natu- 
rally desire for our only son and brother.” 

“It would be the keenest of disappointments to me to 


THE HOLLANDS. 


161 


have anything of the sort happen/’ added the mother. 
“I have tried to think there was no reason to apprehend 
it.” 

“ I don’t believe there is, mamma. Duke and Marga- 
ret seem to be getting on finely together, and I know he 
is a great favorite with her aunt.” 

“ Ellen would no doubt take into account the old friend- 
ship, which would make a union between the families 
doubly pleasant,” supplemented Mrs. Walbridge. 

“ How proud and delighted I should be, mamma, to 
have the thing really happen ! It’s a wonderful chance 
for Duke, if he only knew it. How well, too, it sounds : 
1 My brother’s wife, the heiress of the millionnaire ! ’ I 
don’t intend Jessamine Holland, that little country girl, 
from some obscure town that nobody ever heard of, shall 
frustrate all our designs and ambitions.” 

Mrs. Walbridge might sometimes have reproved such 
energetic language as this ; but she was now a good deal 
displeased with Jessamine, and secretly a little uneasy 
too. 

“ Duke’s likings are very stubborn things. If he 
should take a fancy to Miss Holland, it would be no easy 
matter to manage or circumvent it.” 

There was a look in Edith’s handsome face at this re- 
mark of her mother’s, which would have startled one 
familiar with it. There was some latent power in the 
girl, with which it would not be well to collide, — a strong 
will not easily daunted, — a passionate force which would 
probably never have much scope or development in her 
quiet New England life and training, but which three 
14 


162 


THE HOLLANDS. 


centuries ago, in the court of Catharine de Medici, would 
have offered a field of intrigue to her talents, and made 
her a power in the splendid courts and stormy cabals of 
that age, and perhaps added her name to that company 
of beautifur, gifted, bad women whose names echo down 
to us across the centuries, alike the glory and the misery 
of their time. 

“ At any rate, I have set my mind on having our 
family win this prize, if I can accomplish it; and Jessa- 
mine Holland shall not stand in my way.” 

“ Don’t start on a crusade against any imaginary foe, 
Edith. I am still inclined to think that Duke and Miss 
Holland regard each other only as friends, and it is quite 
absurd to waste any feeling over phantom evils. Then, 
too, you know Miss Holland will leave us now in a few 
weeks.” 

u Yes ; and she will descend into the original obscurity 
from which Duke’s jumping into the sea seems to have 
lifted her for a time.” 

“ Sh — sh — you shock me, ’ ’ replied her mother. ‘ £ I 
never saw you so ill-natured. That is not the way to 
speak of the sister of the youth who saved your brother’s 
life.” 

Mrs. Walbridge, to her honor, was more energetic in 
her reproof, because she had a secret sympathy with her 
daughter’s feeling. 

Edith, too, had the grace to be a little ashamed of her 
speech. “ I will own I was aggravated, mamma, or I 
should not have expressed myself so strongly ; neverthe- 
less, Jessamine Holland, I'm ready to help you to a hus- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


16S 


band, so that it be not my brother ; for I have set my 
heart on Duke’s marrying Margaret Wheatley.” 

When her daughter echoed so fully .the sentiments of 
her own soul, Mrs. Walbridge could not find it in her 
heart to dissent, and changed the subject. 

J essamine Holland and Margaret Wheatley took, as I 
said, a fancy to each other, and the former was always 
content to sit still and listen to the playful sallies which 
frequently ran high betwixt Duke and his guest. 

Jessamine enjoyed their talk over the old childish days 
when they were little boy and girl together, and Marga- 
ret had made her first visit at the Walbridges. She 
would sometimes contrast her life at that time with that 
of these people. It was only a little while ago, — her 
memory slipping down the years softly as boats slip from 
the wide harbor down to the great sea. The price of 
one of Margaret Wheatley’s dresses would have made 
her household rich as princesses in that old time when 
the dreadful problem to be solved day by day was, how 
to keep soul and body together, and a shelter over their 
heads. 

It made her feel sadly, sometimes, to think she had no 
merry childhood to talk about as other people had ; every 
scene was enveloped in that dark atmosphere of poverty, 
of which Margaret Wheatley had no more idea than the 
birds whom God feeds, or the French princess who said, 
“The people starving for bread? Why don’t they eat 
cake then ? ” 

Duke Walbridge seemed all this time in wonderfully 
high spirits. The truth was, there was some new life 


164 


THE HOLLANDS. 


entering his soul, which quickened all his faculties ; and 
there was a certain pleasure and relief in jesting with 
Margaret Wheatley; his thoughts going sometimes to 
himself : — 

“You are bright, and pretty, and piquant, old play- 
fellow, and I like you ; and it’s a wonder that they 
haven’t spoiled you utterly, betwixt all the praise, and 
pleasure, and prosperity ; but I have my doubts whether 
one would find much heart, brave, and strong, and ten- 
der, under all the charm and the brightness. 

“Ah! my one lily, with whom all women cannot 
compare, you sit quiet to-night, and the stillness is upon 
your face, which tells me your thoughts are touching 
close upon pain ; they have gone down into your lonely 
childhood, or far off to Ross. Your thoughts do not 
come to me, and mine do not reach your heart ; but for 
all that, J essamine, your influence is all about me, tender, 
and sacred, and exalting. You are the woman to 
strengthen, purify, redeem, my manhood. You inspire 
me with a new life that is better than the old, with its 
dreams and disgusts, its weakness and incoherence. You 
are the angel passing by the gates, and the air is full of 
myrrh and spikenard. 0 J essamine, if I should unlock 
the doors and call, would you come in? God alone 
knows ; but he has sent me the vision ; and I am stronger 
and better for beholding you whether he gives you to me 
or to another.” 

You would not have guessed these thoughts were 
thronging in Duke’s soul, hearing the badinage that was 
going on betwixt him and Margaret Wheatley. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


165 


Suddenly. Mr. Walbridge’s rather sonorous voice lift- 
ed itself above the hum in the drawing-room. “ This 
has been a hard winter for the poor,” he said. “ Manu- 
factories closed — don’t pay to keep them running. 
Thousands of men and women in our great cities turned 
out of employment ! ” 

Mr. Walbridge was not a great talker ; but his speeches 
were always to the point, and had that practical quality 
which showed itself in everything the man said and did. 
The family always listened with great respect when 
“pa” spoke, all his opinions being held in high estima- 
tion by his household. 

Margaret Wheatley and Jessamine Holland listened 
too. One could hardly have imagined a greater contrast 
than there was between those two girls, with not a birth- 
day between them ; the one, with the brightness, color, 
glow ; the other, with the quiet, strong, delicate face. 

Margaret really felt as little personal interest in the 
subjects of Mr. Walbridge’s remark as she would in a 
hive of bees or a flock of sheep. Not that she was 
really hard-hearted. She gave away all her dresses and 
finery, as soon as she wearied of them, to cooks and 
serving-maids, and really thought it was too bad to throw 
them in the fire, as one of her intimate friends did, “be- 
cause serving-people should not wear the clothes of their 
superiors.” But poverty she always associated with 
rags, ignorance, and vice, and it had never entered the 
soul of the rich banker’s daughter that there was any 
tie of human kindred betwixt her and “that class of 
people. ” 


166 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Jessamine had listened too. Those words, “out of 
work,” always hurt her. She knew what awful depths 
of struggle, pain, hunger, cold, — what dreadful shifts of 
denial and poverty were in them. 

She turned now to Margaret Wheatley, speaking out 
of the fulness of her heart : “ What do you suppose 

will become of those people?” 

And Duke, sitting by, heard the question : waited for 
the answer. 

“ I don’t know, I’m sure ; but they will get along as 
they always have done. There are the benevolent socie- 
ties and the soup-houses, you know.” 

“ Those will do their part; but there is a class "whom 
these can never reach. I mean those to whose pride and 
sensitiveness charity is bitter as death.” 

“ Oh, my dear Miss Holland, those interesting, unfor- 
tunate people are never found out of books. Plenty of 
people who are in the habit of dispensing charities as- 
sure me they never came across one of those fine speci- 
mens of poverty ; that the real ones are alw r ays coarse, 
stolid, ignorant ; the other sort are only author’s ideali- 
zations ; but they do make a story delightful.” 

Jessamine looked at the girl in a kind of a mournful 
amazement. Could anybody live in God’s world, and 
hold such a faith as that ? 

Still, it was all, no doubt, Margaret Wheatley’s edu- 
cation. J essamine did not easily believe evil of anyone ; 
and the banker’s daughter had been singularly cordial to 
her from the beginning. 

“I think,” she said, “one might dispense charities 


THE HOLLANDS. 


167 


through a whole lifetime, and never meet with one of 
those cases of what you call £ interesting poverty ; ’ but 
for all that they are in the world as well as in story- 
books ; though they will not be likely to haunt soup- 
houses or benevolent societies.” 

“ I wish some of them would; I should be so very 
glad to assist such people out of their troubles; ” not 
dreaming she was addressing one, who, without any great 
elasticity of imagination, might even now be included in 
the class of whom she spoke. 

Jessamine made one more effort. “ It is pitiful, too,” 
she said, “ to think of the young girls employed in those 
great cities, wearing away their youth and hope, their 
very lives, in toiling early and late for a mere pittance, 
just enough to give them food, and a bit of dreary back 
attic for a shelter. I think of them in stores, and shops, 
and factories, shivering through the early dawns to their 
long days’ toil ; I think of them going to their comfort- 
less homes, weary and faint, at night; and they are 
women with souls and hearts like yours and mine, Miss 
Wheatley.” 

The young lady moved a little uneasily. Nobody had 
ever talked to her in just that way before. She thought 
Miss Holland a little singular; “but, then, poos’ thing, 
she had never been in New York.” 

“ Of course those things are very bad,” she answered, 
feeling that she must say something. “ But those people 
are used to it, and it doesn’t seem to them at all as it does 
to us.” 

Jessamine smothered a sigh. She thought she could 


168 


THE HOLLANDS. 


understand now how very gracious and beautiful women, 
of whom she had read, queens and princesses, with vast 
wealth and power, had no pity for the people, because 
they could not understand them. 

Duke Walbridge* had listened to the talk too, and had 
his own thoughts about it, which would have greatly 
amazed everybody else. 

Mrs. Ashburn, Margaret’s aunt, happened to overhear 
the conversation also. That it made some impression 
on her was proved by her remarking, the next day, 
to Mrs. Walbridge, when Jessamine happened to be 
away, “Isn’t your young friend a little singular, Hes- 
ter?” 

“ I think she is, Ellen. The fact struck me the first 
time I saw her, and the impression has always continued ; 
but then the circumstances did not admit of our being 
critical, as we might be in the case of most young 
ladies.” 

“ Of course not,” answered the lady. She had heard 
the story of Jessamine’s introduction into the Walbridge 
family. 

Mrs. Ashburn was a pretty woman, with very lady- 
like manners, and a face which still looked youthful under 
its becoming lace and flowers. 

“I think ; mamma, Miss Holland is really pious,” 
said Eva, who had an instinctive feeling that “ singular ” 
was not an adjective Mrs. Walbridge would regard as 
complimentary applied to her own daughters, or Mrs. 
Ashburn to her niece. 

“I hope we all are that, my daughter,” answered 


THE HOLLANDS. 


169 


Mrs. Walbridge, with a rather amused but benignant 
smile. 

11 Oh, but, mamma, I don’t mean pious in the way you 
do; but really so, away down in her heart; not nice, 
/espectable piety, but the sort that makes one conscien- 
tions in word and act, — that makes one pitiful and tender 
to all who are in suffering, and that would dare some- 
thing and sacrifice something for what was right and 
true.” 

Eva had gone on in her earnestness, not considering 
whom her words were hitting. 

There was a moment’s silence, as she paused, and 
then Gertrude said, half satirically, half reproachfully, 
“ Why, Eva, do you mean mamma’s piety is not of the 
right kind?” 

“ Oh, no, indeed ! I wouldn’t of course say that ; only 
it is not of the same kind as Miss Holland’s; that is — 
I mean — I mean — ” 

Poor Eva ! she began to see the conclusions toward 
which she was stumbling, and could not find her way 
out. 

“ You mean, Eva,” said her mother, “that young 
girls, when they talk too much, are apt to get themselves 
into deep waters.” 

“ But, mamma,” still feeling that she owed her mother 
an apology, “I did not mean to say anything against 
your sort of piety.” 

It was said so earnestly that, taken together with the 
words, there was a general laugh, in which Mrs. Wal- 
bridge could not help joining, though Eva’s speech had 
15 


170 


THE HOLLANDS. 


been far from pleasing to the mother. It seemed to the 
lady that her self-complacency had a good many shocks 
of late, and in one way and another she associated them 
with Jessamine Holland, innocent as the girl was of any 
connivance in the matter. But Eva’s speech did not 
increase Mrs. Walbridge’s regard for her young guest; 
and, although the lady would not admit it to herself, she 
had a little secret feeling that perhaps Eva had stumbled 
on a truth. All this time you must fancy to yourself the 
liveliest of households, some new excitement going on 
all the time : parties and drives, dinners and suppers, for 
the advent of the New York guests had brought a new 
element of gayety into the household ; and amid all this 
swift flying of weeks, the winter began to turn its face 
toward the spring, the days lengthened, and Jessamine 
Holland told herself it was time to begin to think of turn- 
ing toward the russet cottage whose front faced the hills. 

How she could take up the old dreariness of that life 
again Jessamine could not conceive, contrasting it with 
the present, so smooth and fair, despite a few drawbacks 
which Jessamine tried to put in the background, gather- 
ing the honey from her little flower of life while it was 
yet summer time. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


171 


CHAPTER XII. 

One day, at a little lunch-party given by the Wal- 
bridges, who were fond of improvising things of this sort, 
Jessamine met a new guest. It had cost the Walbridges 
a little struggle to invite her, the former was well aware ; 
but the lady held a golden key, which proved equal to 
unlocking the awful front door between the carved lions. 

Jessamine had heard the lady’s name frequently this 
winter, her antecedents having been fully discussed in 
the Walbridge circle ; and the gossip floating in Jessa- 
mine’s way, there had grown around it a half-curious, 
half-pitiful feeling for its subject. Mrs. Kent was young, 
and extremely pretty. She owed to that last fact her 
prosperity and social elevation. 

She was not coarse, as some people tried to intimate, — 
a graceful figure ; a fair, girlish face, full of fresh bloom ; 
eyes like the sky in some sunny May day that hangs close 
upon J une, and soft, golden hair about it, — it was a 
face which vaguely reminded one of the last queen of the 
house of Valois. 

Mrs. Kent was the wife of a man richer, report said, 
even than the Walbridges. Three years before, she had 
been a factory girl in an adjoining village, and her hus- 


172 


THE HOLLANDS. 


band was a man at least twenty-five years her senior, a 
shrewd, good-natured, partly man, with a wonderful gift 
for turning everything he touched to gold. He had risen 
from poverty and obscurity by dint of this faculty ; he 
had been all over the world, engaged in varieties of busi- 
ness, which had been uniformly successful. 

Mr. Kent saw the girl as she came by chance into the 
counting-room of the foreman of the factory, with whom 
the former happened to be conversing in the absence of 
the owner, whom he had called to see. The young girl 
was a little excited, and the blue eyes, and the fair 
cheeks, and the golden hair dawned like a vision of al- 
most unearthly loveliness on the gaze of Richard Kent. 

He was not a man of much sentiment ; but, to use his 
own words, “he could tell a pretty woman whenever he 
saw her;” and of late the man who had tumbled all 
around the world, intent only on making his fortune, but 
with a certain good-nature at the bottom, whose salt had 
saved him from turning into a mere grasping miser, with 
no love but gold, no thought but gain, — of late this man 
had begun to wonder in a vague sort of fashion whether, 
after all, it would not pay better to anchor himself down 
somewhere in a pleasant home, with a pretty little wife, 
and enjoy in a new fashion some of the money which he 
had been tumbling over the world all his life to win. 

The face of the little factory girl, with its sunny 
brightness, shone upon him at just the right time ; that 
visit to the counting-office settled her future. 

The girl was a favorite with the foreman, for her pretty 
face and her bright, modest ways, and when he found the 


THE HOLLANDS. 


173 


rich gentleman staring at her. he good-naturedly intro- 
duced the two, and there were some very becoming blushes 
on one side, and some rather clumsy attempts at conversa- 
tion on the other. 

But the matter did not end there. The bright eyes 
and the pretty bloom haunted the dreams of Richard 
Kent as persistently as though he had just scaled the 
high wall of his early twenties, and supplanted the bar- 
gains on which his thoughts had successfully revolved 
for so many years. 

The result was, that, one evening at the close of the 
working hours, the gentleman appeared at the door, and, 
to her infinite amazement, walked home with the young 
factory girl. 

The acquaintance progressed swimmingly after that. 

The factory girl was an orphan, lonely, homeless, and 
with only distant kin in the world. She had been 
brought up in a back country town, with her widest 
knowledge of life gathered during the year in which she 
had been employed in light work at the factory ; her 
keenest interest had been to save money enough from her 
board to indulge in an occasional cheap dress, and bright 
flower or ribbon to set off the pretty face. 

All this appealed to some chivalry and tenderness far 
down in the blunt, good-natured soul of the man whose 
life was settling toward its fifties. 

Richard Kent was a shrewd man, and, though he had a 
homely bronzed face, and his thick, dark hair and beard 
was all overshot with gray, he succeeded very soon in 
making himself look handsome in the eyes of the factory 


174 


THE HOLLANDS. 


girl. In a courtship of this sort, there were no long, 
conventional preliminaries to go through with. 

The man told the girl one day, in his blunt, straight- 
forward fashion, that he wanted her for his wife, and 
though he was not a young, dapper lover, he had a good, 
strong, honest heart that was ready to take her right into 
it, and make her as happy as a faithful, manly love evei 
could make woman, provided she could take him on trust, 
without any of the fine speeches which they said were the 
things that always won quickest the ear and heart of a 
woman. 

The factory girl listened in a confusion of amazement, 
delight, bashfulness, that 'made her look prettier than 
ever. She glanced at the broad, stalwart figure by her 
side. Then the true woman in her woke up for the first 
time. She placed her hands in the strong, large ones, 
the tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a sudden 
seriousness and dignity altogether new to the factory 
girl, “I’m very ignorant; I've never had any chances 
to make anything of myself; but if you’re willing to take 
me as I am, I’ll try very hard to be a good wife to you.” 

There was better promise for the womanhood to come, 
in the simple pathos of that answer, than there would 
have been in the one which many a fine lady might have 
had ready to the suit of the rich man, and he knew it. 
In less than a month they were married.. The sudden 
transition would have tested the grain of any nature, and 
it was not strange that the factory girl’s head was a good 
deal turned by the unaccustomed splendor. She was 
vain and foolish sometimes, dizzy and dazzled at the sud- 


THE HOLLANDS . 


175 


den height to which she had mounted. But she kept her 
husband’s love.and respect through it all, which was cer- 
tainly to her credit, for he had a native shrewdness at 
the bottom which was not easily deceived in its estimate 
of people. 

Richard Kent lavished diamonds and handsome dresses 
on his bride, and she had good taste, which had showed 
itself in the old days-of her factory adornings, and which 
kept her from any gorgeous displays of toilet, in the 
midst of all the sore temptations which her husband’s 
loose purse-strings afforded her. Richard Kent’s boy- 
hood had been passed near* the town where the Wal- 
bridges resided, and as he had certain agreeable associa- 
tions with the vicinity, he purchased a delightful site 
outside of the town, and here, in the midst of pleasant 
grounds, he built himself a spacious home, and settled 
down to enjoy his wealth with the young wife, of whom 
he grew every day fonder and prouder. 

Here, in a little while, a baby came to steady the 
mother’s heart and brain. Nature, at any rate, had 
dealt kindly by Mrs. Kent, and beneath the pretty face 
there were thought and feeling, which would assert them- 
selves when her eyes should grow a little accustomed to 
the new dazzle of her position. 

She had been learning many things since she left the 
factory, too, and among these were a very stinging, but 
perhaps not unwholesome, sense of her deficiencies, 
These were, in truth, deplorable ; the backwoods’ school 
having inducted her into a little reading and spelling, 
and left her there before her tenth birthday. Mrs. Kent 


176 


THE HOLLANDS. 


grew slowly awake to the fact, that she sometimes made 
mistakes in conversation, and mispronounced words, 
which the gracious ladies who invited her to their parties 
waxed merry over when her back was turned. This 
knowledge galled Mrs. Kent to the quick. She was 
angry over it, and humiliated, too, and the poor young 
thing, in the midst of her elegance, had no friend to 
advise her, and she shrank from telling her husband the 
trouble over which she brooded, and it was one which 
the kind, blunt nature of the man would hardly under- 
stand. 

“ If she could only sing and play,” Mrs. Kent 
thought, pondering the matter ; but she had no gift 
there, and, if she told the unvarnished truth, she had 
enjoyed the opera quite as much for its display of fine 
dresses as she did for the music. 

That there were some forces in her of energy and 
resolution, Mrs. Kent proved by setting herself to study ; 
but it was very slow work with no teachers of any sort. 

Meanwhile the lady’s tact and observation preserved 
her from many egregious errors, but sometimes, despite 
her care, they would slip out ; and as her wealth made 
Mrs. Kent conspicuous, it became fashionable to criticise 
her in a small way, and there were people mean enough 
to indemnify themselves for admitting her into their 
society by repeating her mistakes. At any rate, Jessa- 
mine Holland thought no fault could be found with Mrs. 
Kent’s deportment, whatever were the defects of her 
education. She was as thoroughly ladylike in presence 
and bearing as any of the young ladies in the company. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ITT 


During the talk somebody ambitiously quoted a pas- 
sage from Dante’s “ Inferno; ” and another lady, quite 
innocent of Mrs. Kent’s antecedents, turned to her, say- 
ing, playfully, “ No doubt that is all very fine-; but I 
must have Dante turned into a mould of Anglo Saxon, or 
else he is all Greek to me.” 

Mrs. Kent was a little nervous. She must make some 
reply, and fancying that the lady’s remark had given her 
the clew, and that she was sure of her ground this time, 
she answered, “ I am no wiser than yourself. I never 
read your poet. I only know he was one of the old 
Greek authors. ” 

The next moment Mrs. Kent became conscious that 
she had made a tremendous blunder. The ladies around 
her plumed themselves on their good-breeding, hut, for all 
that, there was a stir, a significant lifting of eyebrows, 
an amused smile about the circle, and the poor little lady 
felt stung and humiliated to the quick. 

Jessamine sat near her. She saw, with a sudden flush 
of indignation, the smile of the ladies. She knew how 
shallow was the cultivation of most of the elegant women 
before her ; a little music, a smattering of French, a few 
of the surface accomplishments which pass current in 
fashionable circles, and your line had struck the bottom 
of these women’s culture. What right had they to self- 
complacency or scorn over the factory girl, who had im- 
proved her small opportunities far more wisely than 
they? 

Jessamine Holland had a courage that, when roused, 
would have made her dauntless in the presence-chamber 


178 


THE HOLLANDS. 


of kings. Her eyes, in a blaze of indignation, went 
around the circle, and then she turned, with her clear 
voice and her quiet grace, to the lady : “ Mrs. Kent, I 
think you did not hear the name. We were speaking of 
Dante, not of a Greek author,” she said. 

“ I beg your pardon; I did not understand,” replied 
Mrs. Kent, and there was a sudden flash of gratitude in 
the blue eyes that looked up at Jessamine. 

After that, of course there was no more to be said ; 
and although each lady present understood, as before, 
the fact of Mrs. Kent’s ignorance, each one felt, too, a 
secret uneasiness. The courtesy which had not presumed 
on the ignorance of a guest, and which had so gracefully 
turned it into a misapprehension of the right, name, was 
something finer and higher than anything to which Jes- 
samine’s hearers had attained. But the lesson was not 
without its service ; for Mrs. Kent’s setting Dante among 
the old Greek poets was never alluded to again, as it 
would have been with plenty of contemptuous laughter 
and pity, if Jessamine had not come to the rescue. 

“ That first sentence was not just the truth,” said 
Jessamine’s conscience a little later. She had not 
thought of that at the moment. 

Several times, so many indeed that Jessamine was 
quite ashamed of herself, her eyes met Mrs. Kent’s. 
11 How singularly pretty and attractive she is ! The only 
wonder, that with her antecedents she carries herself so 
well. Poor thing ! Even wealth does not bring all one 
wants ; and she must be in perpetual fear of mortifica- 
tion, from women whom her husband’s wealth has forced 


THE HOLLANDS. 


179 


to acknowledge her. How that smile of theirs stung me, 
as though it had been a personal insult! ” went Jessa- 
mine’s thoughts. 

Mrs. Kent was perfectly aware how Jessamine had 
flung herself into the breach, in hearty defence of a 
stranger. It stirred all that was grateful and generous in 
the little woman’s nature. A few commonplace remarks 
only were interchanged before the company separated. 
When Mrs. Kent had made her adieux to her hostess, she 
approached- Jessamine, and said, with a pretty kind of 
eagerness, “ Miss Holland, I am strongly desirous of 
knowing more of you.” 

Frankness of this sort would he sure of being met 
half way by Jessamine Holland; and she replied, play- 
fully, “ Your desire granted, my dear Mrs. Kent, might 
produce quite the opposite effect.” 

“You will allow me to be the judge of that,” an- 
swered the lady ; and then she added an urgent entreaty 
that Jessamine would give her the pleasure of an inter- 
view at her own house. She would send the carriage at 
any hour Miss Holland would appoint. 

With a crowd of engagements which occupied the days 
and evenings, Jessamine found it difficult to command' 
two or three hours outside of the family. Time was so 
absorbed by this butterfly existence, whose only aim was 
a vivid, aesthetic enjoyment of life. Was it very much 
better than the butterfly’s that flashed through the golden 
summer air the purple beauty of its wings, and gladdened 
the eyes which saw it hovering among the flowers ? 

But Mrs. Kent was so thoroughly in earnest that Jes- 


180 


THE HOLLANDS. 


samine appointed a time for the visit, a couple of days 
later. Her going might be unceremonious ; and the 
Walbridges might have their opinions about it, she re- 
flected ; but for all that she would go. 

The Kents lived several miles out of town. However 
people might criticise them in some ways, they could but 
admit that the owner had displayed good taste in the site 
he had chosen, and the home he had reared on it. It 
was quiet, substantial, elegant, and Jessamine sighed a 
little to herself as she mounted the stone steps, and won- 
dered whether she should ever have a home too, — a real 
home, with nothing so grand as this, but a bit of a cot- 
tage, with half-a-dozen rooms, and balconies, — a cottage 
among green hills, half smothered in vines. 

I suppose we all have some time our horizon outside 
of the real daily world in which we live. This one of 
the cottage was Jessamine’s. 

Inside, too, amid the general elegance^ there was little 
to find fault with. The colors were rather too fresh and 
bright to suit people of quiet tastes, but nothing vulgar. 

Mrs. Kent’s greeting was more like that of an old 
friend than an acquaintance whose knowledge of her 
guest was confined to a single interview. The lady had 
secured herself from interruptions this morning, and it 
was surprising how much the young matron and the 
young maiden found to say to each other. 

J essamine felt as though she was breathing a draught 
of her native country air ; and it was very pleasant, for 
the Walbridge ceremonies sometimes grew a little irk- 
some. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


181 


Mrs. Kent took her guest at last into a small cosey 
side-room that opened out of the parlor. 

“We can talk better, and I always feel more at home 
than I do in those great parlors.” 

“ So do I,” said Jessamine. “ How nice this is ! ” — a 
pleasant home-feeling coming over her as she settled her- 
self down in one of the low easy-chairs. 

Mrs. Kent looked at her guest a moment with some 
thought that flushed her face and widened the blue eyes ; 
then she spoke : “ You were very kind to me yesterday, 

Miss Holland. I could not thank you before all those 
people ; but I shall never forget it of you — never — so 
long as I live.” 

“ 0 Mrs. Kent, it is all not worth speaking of.” 

The lady’s lip quivered. “ Ah, but it was the way — 
the brave, generous way — in which you sprang to my 
defence. You did not join in the smile, nor the look 
which I saw went around the circle.” 

“It was a shame — a disgrace to them ! ” burst out 
Jessamine, hotly indignant ; “ and they pride themselves 
on their good-breeding ! ” 

Mrs. Kent drew a little nearer, again ; and, seeing her 
face, Jessamine thought, “ There is something in this 
woman beyond what her husband’s money has put there.” 

“I know what their friendship is really worth,” she 
said. “ I know it’s the elegant home, and the money, 
and all those things that have compelled them to receive 
me amongst them. I take their courtesies for just what 
they are worth ; but with you it is different. I said to 
myself yesterday, 4 If I was only the poor, friendless 


182 


THE HOLLANDS. 


factory girl I was two years ago, she would be just as 
careful not to hurt me ; my feelings would be just as 
sacred in her sight as they are now, — now I’m the wife of 
a rich man.’ ” 

“ I should be a miserable wretch if they wouldn’t,” 
answered Jessamine, with hot cheeks. 

11 Ah, yes; but the fine ladies in your set, Miss Hol- 
land, don’t look at it that way ; and though I feel that 
in one sense, at least, I’m above them, yet their contempt 
for my ignorance hurts, humiliates me. But I never had 
any kind of a chance, you see,” — the lips quivering again. 

Jessamine was so strongly stirred that she could not 
say one word. She leaned over and touched Mrs. Kent’s 
hand, — a slight movement ; but Jessamine had, from her 
childhood, her own way of doing these small things 
when her heart went in them. Hannah Bray could tell 
you about that. 

The lady went on : 11 I’ve been thinking a great deal 
about the matter of late. If I could only set to work 
and improve myself, make up for the lost time ; but lam 
so utterly ignorant, and it seems so hopeless, and I don’t 
know where to begin. It is very easy to tell you all 
this. I felt that it would be from the moment when I 
saw your kind, pitying eyes looking at me yesterday.” 

Jessamine began to feel that her own poverty had not 
been of the worse sort. Its iron had entered so deeply 
into the soul of her childhood and youth, that perhaps it 
was time for her to learn now the great limitations of the 
wealth which had been denied to her. 

“ I have had my sorrows too; I have known how 


THE HOLLANDS. 


183 


hard poverty is also,” answered Jessamine, her lips quiv- 
ering this time. 

“ I thought you would not have been so tender with- 
out you had known,” said Mrs. Kent, eagerly. “Yet 
your poverty must have been so very different from mine 
— so very different ;” and she shook her head mournfully, 
and Jessamine could make no reply. 

In a moment the lady looked up eagerly again. “ If 
there is any way in which I can make up for these de- 
ficiencies, but it seems so late to begin now ; yet I would 
work very hard. I cannot bear the thought that some 
day my little boy upstairs may live to know they are 
laughing at his mother’s ignorance, and be ashamed of 
her.” 

Her face worked, the tears and the sobs coming up to- 
gether behind the words. She had touched the quick of 
her pain now, — the mother-love, the mother-pride, that 
had roused and steadied the whole woman ; that had con- 
quered the vanities and affectations, and that would be the 
secret spring feeding any new purposes of growth and self- 
development in Mrs. Kent. 

Jessamine answered out of her quick impulse of help 
and pity, “ But it is not too late to redeem all that has 
gone.” 

Mrs. Kent looked up with an eager light breaking all 
over her pretty, tearful face. “ Do you really think so? 
That is what I wanted to know — to ask you. I am 
ready to do anything; it is not too late, then?” 

Jessamine hesitated a little. It was no light question 
that Mrs. Kent had asked. That she would find the 


184 


THE HOLLANDS. 


work one to % test all her mental and moral force, Jessa- 
mine saw clearly. No sudden impulse, no strong but 
evanescent enthusiasm, would avail her here. The slow, 
wearisome climbing at first; the shaping her habits of 
studies ; the ease, the pleasure, the luxury about her ; 
the calls and plans of each day, would be so many con- 
spiring forces against this work of self-improvement. Had 
the sweet-faced little woman sitting there the strength 
and the courage to conquer all these circumstances, and 
gather out of her daily life, out of its ease and pleasure, 
three or four of its best hours for slow, hard toil of this 
sort ? J essamine doubted. And her answer kept faith 
with herself. 

She set the matter in its true light before the young 
matron. It was a noble impulse which possessed her; 
Jessamine’s whole soul did it honor ; but she could not 
disguise the great lions which stood in the way. Knowl- 
edge was not easily won ; habits of study were not easily 
formed. The beginning especially was slow and hard. A 
steadfast, unswerving purpose alone would avail her. 
Very few women were equal to work of this sort. The 
duties and the delights of life wore away the hours, and 
it was a great thing to look them in the face, and say, 
resolutely, “I give up all the rest for the sake of 
knowledge !” 

Mrs. Kent drank in every word. A good many feel- 
ings, however, in her face. There was a little silence. 

“ But if you were in my place — I know you will tell 
me truly — what would you do ? Should you think the 
work and the struggle would pay in the end? Would 


THE HOLLANDS. 


185 


you not give up the rest, the ease, and the pleasure, for 
what at last the knowledge would be to you ? 77 

Thus adjured, what could Jessamine reply? A sud- 
den steadfastness grew around the line of the sweet mouth ; 
a new strength steadied and fired the whole face. “ Yes,” 
she said ; “ for myself, I should look the facts in the face, 
and I should put down the love of ease, of luxury, the 
pursuit of pleasure, all things that eat away the days, the 
months, and the years, saying, 1 God helping me, I will 
seek for knowledge, 7 sure that if I lived to be forty or 
fifty years old, I should feel, 1 1 am not sorry I chose the 
wiser and the better part. 7 77 

“ And so I will choose, and so I shall feel, then, 77 said 
Mrs. Kent, and her face flashed into something which no 
one had ever seen there before. 

Jessamine could not discourage her. She thought of 
the little boy upstairs, and it seemed that he was plead- 
ing with her for his mother ; that the sweet baby face 
which she had never seen looked at her half reproach- 
fully, saying, “ She has placed her future in your hands. 
As you say, so she will do. Tell her to be not alone the 
mother I can love, but one whose mind and thought I can 
honor and revere, as you would have your own child, if 
God should ever give you one. 77 

The baby lay upstairs, nestled in snowy laces, smiling 
among his pleasant dreams ; but, for all that, J essamine 
heard his voice pleading. So she could not find it in her 
heart to discourage Mrs. Kent ; still, she would not make 
herself the rule for another, which it is very hard not to 
do in our youth. And she answered, u I should choose 
16 


186 


THE HOLLANDS. 


tlie study, Mrs. Kent, because I love it best. It is not 
thus with all women, — women, too, who make good wives 
and mothers; neither is knowledge everything. The 
heart and the character, in the long run, are a great deal 
more.” 

“But the knowledge makes both wiser and better?” 
asked Mrs. Kent. 

“Always wiser and better, if rightly used.” 

“ Then I am making the right choice. I shall not re- 
pent it,” added the young wife. 

“ But there is another way,” added Jessamine : “an 
easier one. There are many young ladies in society who 
have a superficial knowledge, that with a certain feminine 
tact and good sense manages to get them on very nicely. 
You can procure a French teacher, take a course of light, 
pleasant reading, and with your quick perceptions you 
would soon find yourself on a level with these people, and 
study would not be the hard task which I have described 
it.” 

“But would you, in my place, remember, make up 
your mind to that course ? ” 

There could be but one reply. The flash in her face 
again. “ No, I would go honestly to work ; I would 
make no shifts of this sort ; I w r ould commence at the 
foundations.” 

“I am utterly ignorant,” said poor Mrs. Kent. “I 
know nothing of geography or grammar. I can read 
and spell, and Richard says I write a pretty hand ; that 
is all.” 

Jessamine’s sweetest smile came out on her face. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


187 


u The less you know, the greater will be the victory, ” 
she said. 

“ And — and how long will it take to lay the founda- 
tions, — form these habits of study? ” asked Mrs. Kent. 

She had chosen her confidant wisely. J essamine had 
fought much of the battle herself. 

The girl hesitated a moment. “I think, if you were 
to study persistently three hours a day, for one year, with 
some judicious teacher, you would have gained the battle. 
There would be much to do after that; but, as I said, the 
beginning; is the hardest. ” 

Mrs. Kent rose up and placed her hands in Jessamine’s ; 
her face was pale, but a great light shone out of it. 
<£ Thank you, my dear friend,” she said. 11 1 will study 
so for the next year.” 

Just then the bell rang. The coachman had called for 
Miss Holland. She looked at her watch in amazement, 
and saw that the two hours had slipped away while they 
had been talking. 


188 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Only two days after her first interview with Mrs. 
Kent, Jessamine found herself again at the lady’s resi- 
dence, — an urgent note, written in a pretty, though rather 
painstaking, undeveloped hand, having carried her out of 
town again. 

Mrs. Kent met her guest at the door, her face prettier 
than ever, J essamine thought, with its pleased, eager wel- 
come. 

“ You were so good to come, Miss Holland. I have 
been half frightened at my boldness in sending for you 
ever since the carriage drove off, fearing what you might 
think of it.” 

11 My thoughts are not very formidable things at the 
best,” laughed Jessamine. “ I cannot conceive how they 
should ever alarm any human being. This time they re- 
solved themselves into a very feminine curiosity to know 
what this mystery was at which your message hinted so 
strongly.” 

“ It is a little plan which came to me night before last ; 
and I have pondered it ever since. You see, I would not 
do anything of this sort suddenly or rashly,” — blushing 
and smiling. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


189 


The two had come into the quiet little alcove room 
again, where they had their first talk, and where Jes- 
samine had a home feeling. 

She was, however, quite in the dark regarding Mrs. 
Kent’s meaning. She therefore added, in her bright, 
playful way : — 

“It must be an awfully solemn matter whicfi re- 
quired two whole days’ consideration. Why, I never gave 
so much time to any project in my life. I think, if a man 
should propose to me, I should arrive at an absolute de- 
cision in less than half that time.” 

Mrs. Kent could not help laughing ; but she grew grave 
in a few moments. 

“But this plan which has cost me so much time and 
thought will never come to anything unless you consent 
to it, and help me carry it out. I have set my whole 
heart on it.” 

“I shall be very glad to — to serve you in any way 
that is best for us both,” replied Jessamine, a kind of 
prescience of responsibility coming over her, and making 
her seek her words carefully. 

Then Mrs. Kent’s plan came out, which affected Jes- 
samine in one way almost as vitally as her hostess in 
another. 

The lady had been revolving all her friend had said to 
her in their last interview, and was certain that Jessamine 
was the only person in the world who could assist Mrs. 
Kent to carry out her purposes of study. 

The ‘whole matter resolved itself into a most pressing 
invitation to Jessamine Holland, to come and take up her 


190 


THE HOLLANDS. 


abode with Mrs. Kent for the next year, and induct that 
lady into her studies. 

She pleaded her cause with an earnestness, force, and 
eloquence which really quite took from Jessamine the 
power to reply after her first amazement at the proposi- 
tion of her hostess. 

Mrs. Kent, like everybody else in the Walbridge circle, 
knew the history of Jessamine Holland's acquaintance 
with the family, and that she was an orphan, with no 
near kin in the world except the heroic brother who had 
gone to the East Indies to seek a fortune for himself and 
his sister. 

She barely touched on that, however. All the favor 
was to come from Jessamine, all the bounty to be reaped 
by herself. She urged her necessity, and insisted stren- 
uously on the fact that Jessamine alone would be a stimu- 
lant and support to her in the solemn resolution she had 
formed of educating herself. 

There were teachers to be had, no doubt ; but these 
would not be friends, nor apprehend all the delicate com- 
plications of the case. Nobody in the world could do 
that but Miss Holland ; and, besides that, — with another 
little blush and unsteadiness of lip and voice, — Mrs. Kent 
was so shockingly ignorant she should be afraid and 
ashamed to expose all this to a hired teacher, who might 
go away and ridicule her, as those ladies who prided them- 
selves on their good-breeding had not hesitated to do. 
Then Jessamine’s presence would be a constant inspira- 
tion to Mrs. Kent, would encourage, sustain he?, when 
her own faith failed. In the world, in her own home, in 


THE HOLLANDS. 


191 


herself also, she would have constant obstacles to encoun- 
ter, where a friend, who comprehended them all, could 
alone enable her to be steadfast. 

After that first year, which Jessamine had told her 
would prove the real test, and leave her at its close van- 
quished or victor, Mrs. Kent could take the reins ; but 
now her hands were too weak and unused to hold them 
alone. Would Jessamine help her ? 

All this, and a great deal more, the little lady said, 
pleading her cause with a wonderful fervor, while Jes- 
samine sat still trying to look calmly at the matter which 
had been sprung on her so suddenly. 

Her answer was doubtful when Mrs. Kent paused: “It 
has taken me so completely by surprise — there are so 
many things to consider — my dear Mrs. Kent, you must 
give me time.” 

“ Oh, yes — only” — and an arch smile came about the 
young matron’s mouth. “You said that it would not 
take two days to decide in case of a proposal : now this 
is a far less important matter and I am so impatient.” 

Jessamine could but admit that her own remark was 
very shrewdly forged by her hostess into a weapon for that 
lady’s cause ; and then the latter went on drawing a most 
captivating picture of the quiet, happy times they would 
have together. There was the pleasant, ample house, 
with the wide grounds, where the summer was coming 
to work its old Eden miracle afresh, and Miss Holland 
should be just as much at home as under her own roof, 
and live her own life with absolute freedom as it pleased 
her. There should be the three hours for study, an in- 


192 


THE HOLLANDS. 


exorable law ; and beyond that were walks, and drives, 
and sails, whenever J essamine should choose. 

They were both young and enthusiastic in different 
ways, and if the coleur de rose visions spread enchanted 
landscapes before them, it was natural enough. • 

“I would try to make you very happy,” said Mrs. 
Kent, in a way that was really touching, at the con- 
clusion; “and at least you could come and try it, you 
know.” 

“ I am quite overwhelmed by all your goodness,” stam- 
mered Jessamine, whose youth and fancy had been quite 
dazzled with the glowing pictures. “ I have no doubt I 
should be very happy, but — but I wonder what Ross 
would say ! ” 

Here was an element in the argument on which Mrs. 
Kent had not counted. She was not at all disposed to 
leave the matter to the arbitration of somebody on the 
other side of the planet. 

She was simply an impulsive, undeveloped young girl at 
this time, with a warm heart and a good deal of latent en- 
ergy under the pretty face. Her instincts were true. 
She had selected her confidant wisely. Whatever Jes- 
samine might share of ease and luxury in the elegant 
home, Mrs. Kent would owe far more to her by contact 
with a finer and nobler nature than any she had ever met, 
and by its quiet, moulding influences around her life. 
She needed Jessamine. 

“ If I could see this wonderful brother of yours, I am 
sure I could bring him over to my way of thinking ; but 
you will not hold me in suspense while letters can go 


THE HOLLANDS. 


193 


around the world and back, to have him decide on a mat- 
ter of which he could really know nothing. The whole 
thing might strike him as a foolish vagary, and in any 
case he must leave it all to your decision.” 

This reasoning was so sensible that Jessamine could 
not gainsay it. I think she was glad she could not ; but, 
for all that, she would not rush with hurried feet into 
this new life, which had risen up suddenly, like a stately 
palace in the midst of shining gardens, to receive her. 

“ But your husband, Mrs. Kent, — does he know of this 
project, and approve it? ” 

“ Oh, yes; Bichard is so good, — you have to know him 
thoroughly to find that out, Miss Holland, — he approves 
of anything that will make me happy. It is true that 
he always makes light of my ignorance, with some such 
answer as this, 1 You are wise and smart enough for me. 
Dolly,’ — that is one of his pet names. ‘ Don’t bother 
that little head of yours about turning into a bookworm;’ 
and talk of that sort. And even if I were to tell him of 
some of the humiliations which I endure, he would think 
it all proceeded from narrow envy or jealousy. A man 
could hardly understand these things as we do.” 

“ Hardly,” — wondering whether Boss or Duke Wal- 
bridge would not. 

“ But Bichard did not raise the remotest objection to 
my plan when I laid it before him, and in the end I am 
certain he will not think the less of me for carrying it 
out; besides, he will like you as well as I do, almost.” 

Afterward, Mrs. Kent took Jessamine upstairs, and 
showed her the room which she had appropriated to her 
17 


194 


THE HOLLANDS. 


use in case she consented to become an inmate of the 
household. It was a bower pretty enough for a princess, 
instead of a very quiet little country maiden ; perhaps 
less pretentious than the stately chamber which she oc- 
cupied at the Walbridges, but quite as tasteful and ele- 
gant, with its dark furniture, its snowy linen and laces ; 
and its windows, that took in a landscape, whose hills and 
meadows, with their shining crinkle of brooks and river 
courses, would be an eternal delight to the eyes of J es- 
samine Holland. At the foot of the bed, too, just where 
those radiant eyes would be sure to rest on it when they 
woke up from the night into the new day, was a sea- 
picture, — a rare thing, by DeHaas, — along green line 
of waves writhing up in glittering coils to the beach, like 
a huge serpent throwing its cold, vast length on the dark, 
wet sands that sparkled in the light. In the west, the sun 
was going down in great masses of angry clouds ; there 
was a heave and restlessness of the vast sea, which told 
one it was girding up its strength to meet the storm that 
was coming down upon it ; there was the snowy glitter of 
the sea-birds in the distance, and across the bare, reddish 
headlands. 

Jessamine drew in her breath. A sense of ease, of 
home, and peaceful shelter came softly over her. She 
thought of the little room at Hannah Bray’s, with its 
bare walls and its clumsy furniture, to which she must go 
back in a little while. Then she heard Mrs. Kent’s 
voice: u How soon shall you let me know your de 
cision ? ” 

“ You must give me one night to sleep over it,” an- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


195 


swered Jessamine. “ That usually clears away my cob- 
webs of doubt, over any new plans. To-morrow I will 
write you;” and with this understanding the two young 
things, so strangely brought together, so singularly in need 
of each other, parted at the door. 

As Jessamine rolled through the grounds, she looked 
about them with a new interest, and with some new sense of 
possession. In these few last days the first pulse of the 
spring had stirred under the earth. She heard a robin 
singing among the hedges, and with a sudden yearning 
thrill she saw clusters of “lady’s delights,” constella- 
tions of purple and gold, in the flower-borders at her feet. 

Would this earthly Paradise ever really be her home? 
Was it a dream, whose glowing mirage filled an hour of 
the night, or something that had really fallen to her 
human lot ? setting herself back in the carriage when she 
found that her lashes were wet. Only that morning Jes- 
samine had been compelling herself to look the fact in 
the face that she must return home, and the time was 
drawing nigh to do this. She would not admit to her most 
secret thought that there had been any failure of cordial- 
ity in the manner of the Walbridges since she first became 
their guest. 

J essamine Holland was not morbid ; but her instincts 
were sensitive, and if she would have allowed herself to 
heed them, she might have felt that there was a subtle 
difference of manner in her hostess, and in that of her 
elder daughters. 

Mrs. Walbridge herself was unconscious of this; in- 
deed, she made a constant effort not to fail in any atten- 


196 


THE HOLLANDS. 


tion to her guest ; but it was impossible for even that 
lady to absolutely mask her feelings ; and of late she had 
set her heart on Duke’s taking to wife Margaret Wheat- 
ley, and she was not certain whether Jessamine Holland 
Btood in the way of this consummation. Sometimes Mrs. 
Walbridge made herself believe that her fears were 
groundless ; and then again she was less confident of the 
state of her son’s affections. She watched Duke narrow- 
ly ; she pondered his words, and yet she feared to let fall 
a hint which should indicate the desire on which she had 
set her heart. 

All this, of course, did not tend to promote Jessamine 
Holland in Mrs. Walbridge’s estimation. The lady must 
have been glad of any circumstance which would have re- 
lieved her from the unwelcome presence of her young 
guest. Mrs. Walbridge would not admit to herself that 
she disliked Jessamine Holland ; but, for all that, she did, 
in secret, as we are apt to do those whom we fear may 
frustrate our dearest plans. And all unconsciously to her- 
self, there was at times a faint chilliness in her tones and 
manner toward Miss Holland, though that young lady 
denied it most energetically to herself when her instincts 
first suggested the fact. 

Edith, who sympathized with her mother’s feeling, 
was, perhaps, a little less guarded. Margaret Wheatley 
6he had resolved should be her sister-in-law, and here she 
'Was confident of the sympathy of her whole family, with 
the exception of Eva, who was kept wholly in the dark. 
She was too young to understand anything of the sort, 
Mrs. Walbridge said. There was no doubt that Mrs. 


THE HOLLANDS . 


19T 


Ashburn could be relied on to use all her influence to 
promote the union of her niece with the son of her friend. 
Duke was a great favorite with the lady, who had an 
immense horror of fortune-hunters, and a constant dread 
lest her niece should he sacrificed to some one of these, 
his real purpose disguised under graceful bearing and 
flattering tongue. 

Mrs. Ashburn’s influence would be no small force in 
Duke’s favor, both with father and daughter. As for 
Margaret herself, the young man had always been an 
immense favorite with her from childhood. Everything 
was auspicious for Duke’s suit to a bride with a dowry of 
half a million to add to her many charms and graces. 

Did this unknown stranger, without fortune or friends, 
whom circumstances had forced on their hospitality, 
stand in the way of so brilliant an alliance, — one that 
would do honor to the Walbridge race ? “ She shall 

not,” muttered Edith; and her haughty face darkened, 
and her mother listened, and did not reprove her 
daughter. 

Jessamine found, on her return from Mrs. Kent’s, 
that a plan had been concocted by the young people to 
ride over to the Falls, — a little picturesque torrent of % 
water in a gorge of low, black rocks, a few miles from 
the city. Doubtless the attraction of the scenery was 
greatly enhanced by the drive to the waterfall, which 
wound charmingly among the meadows, with sudden out- 
breaks and surprises of hill and valley scenery. 

Jessamine had frequently been promised a ride to this 
waterfall when the spring weather opened, though Duko 


198 


THE HOLLANDS. 


had been disposed to have a jest, at Eva’s expense, over 
her highly colored descriptions of the size and volume 
of the stream : “ 0 Eva ! one would think to hear you 
go on, that we had a companion-piece to Niagara up there 
among the rocks. It is only a pretty stream of water 
leaping over the stones from a considerable height ; but, 
then, small eyes see things in such enlarged proportions; 
a cherry once looked bigger in my eyes than an apple 
does now.” 

“No doubt it will in mine, when I have attained your 
venerable age,” answered Eva, pertly enough. The 
brother and sister were always having their badinage over 
each other’s ages, all of which vastly amused Jessa- 
mine. 

Eva was full of the details of the ride when Jessamine 
returned. The air was soft as a . late May-day, full of 
sunshine and the fragrance of blossoms. Everybody 
seemed to take it for granted that Miss Holland would 
go ; and she would have thought it absurd to demand a 
more ceremonious invitation. 

Of course, it never entered Duke’s thought that Jessa- 
mine would not be included in the party ; but Edith had 
made up her mind that morning to weave a little silken 
net of intrigue about the whole affair. She was resolved 
that her brother and Margaret Wheatley should occupy 
the carriage by themselves, if she could compass it. 
“ There is no reason why Miss Holland should see the 
waterfall on this particular occasion,” she said to her- 
self; “and there are especial reasons why Duke should 
just at this time be thrown, as much as possible, in Mar- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


199 


garet Wheatley’s society, with no distracting influences 
about him.” 

The eldest daughter of Mason Walbridge would have 
made an artist in delicate intrigue. This matter required 
dainty handling, for it would never answer to offend 
Duke or wound Miss Holland. Edith Walbridge’ s plan 
was worthy of herself. 

Jessamine stood at the mirror putting on her hat, for 
the carriages were coming up the drive, when there was 
a knock at the door, and Miss Walbridge suddenly en- 
tered the room. 

“ Oh, I beg pardon ! ” — and she started back with a 
wonderfully well-counterfeited look of surprise. “ I did 
not understand — you are going with us, Miss Hol- 
land?” Voice and smile very cordial over these last 
words, in which, too, was a lurking embarrassment. 

“ Yes — that is — I was expecting to,” answered Jes- 
samine, a little incoherently, surprised and curious. 
“ But is there any reason — I beg you will tell me what 
your errand was, Miss Walbridge.” 

“It was a very small matter, a mere misapprehen- 
sion on my part. I am quite confused, Miss Holland.” 

She certainly looked so, standing there in her dark, 
handsome riding-suit ; and Jessamine Holland was not 
by nature suspicious. She always took people at their 
word. 

“ I shall not feel comfortable unless you frankly tell 
me what brought you in here, Miss Walbridge.” 

“ Well, then, as I am caught, mouse-like, in a snug 
little trap, I suppose there is no way but to make a 


200 


THE HOLLANDS. 


clean breast of it,” answered Edith, with an air of reluc- 
tant frankness. 

“ I thought you said to Eva at lunch that you had 
letters to write to your brother, which would prevent 
your joining our party for the Falls this afternoon ; and 
I have just received some handsome engravings of Span- 
ish mountain and coast views, which I thought might 
interest you in case you felt lonely before we returned ; 
and I called to say, knowing your taste for anything of 
the sort, that I had laid them on the library table for 
your amusement.” 

This was very kind and thoughtful of Edith. Was it 
strange that Jessamine Holland’s gaze could not pene- 
trate far down into any secret motive which underlaid all 
the graciousness ; that she took the whole with her 
native good faith ? 

“I thank you sincerely, Miss Walbridge. It was not 
strauge that you misapprehended me ; for I did tell Miss 
Eva that I had intended to bestow this afternoon on 
Ross, as the steamer sails day after to-morrow, but that 
I would break my rules and sit up the best part of the 
night to write him.” 

“ And — and I have just told Duke — 0 Miss Hol- 
land, I beg you will pardon all my stupidity, and take 
my place ! Really, this ride is quite unimportant to me, 
I have taken it so many times.” 

Edith Walbridge seemed confused and distressed. It 
was like Jessamine to hasten to relieve her. 

“ Don’t think of me in the least, Miss Walbridge ; but 
just enlighten me, and then I am sure we shall be able 


THE HOLLANDS. 


201 


to adjust the whole matter; ” laying down her gloves on 
the table. 

Then Edith went on to say that, in the full belief of 
Miss Holland’s refusal to accompany them, she had 
insisted on Duke’s taking the phaeton, which would only 
accommodate two people comfortably. 

“ 1 thought this arrangement might be pleasanter than 
to have Eva by his side ; as I presume you are aware, 
Miss Holland, that a peculiar friendship has always 
existed between Duke and Margaret Wheatley. She 
was the only little girl whom he ever heartily fancied, 
and we used to imagine their childish penchant might 
ripen into a real attachment ; and, as I have an impres- 
sion the old feeling may not have quite perished, I man- 
aged that they should ride undisturbed to this old haunt 
of theirs, knowing it was. very full of childish associations 
to both of them. Of course I should never have alluded 
to this matter if these circumstances had not forced me.” 

Edith said this in the most natural way imaginable. 
Still, she watched covertly the effect of her words on her 
listener. There was no apparent embarrassment. J es- 
samine stood quietly and earnestly listening, with no 
change in her face, except the swift color which was 
always coming and going, and therefore furnished no 
criterion on the present occasion. 

“And — and — oh, I begin to see the facts now. 
Your own carriage will he filled, and so you wish to 
remain at home to make room for me. You are very 
kind, Miss Walbridge, but of course that is not to be 
thought of ; ” and Jessamine took off her hat. 


202 


THE HOLLANDS. 


u Oh, do put it on ! ” pleaded Edith. <£ I shall not 
have a moment’s comfort during the ride, and Duke 
would be so vexed if he knew all this.” 

“ He need know nothing about it,” answered Jessa- 
mine, eager to relieve her friend’s embarrassment. “ J ust 
tell him that I am really unable to take the ride this 
afternoon and finish my letter to Ross, which is the sim- 
ple truth, and don’t give another thought to this matter.” 

Edith, sure of her ground now, demurred and pro- 
tested; but Jessamine was firm, and at last she was 
obliged to leave, and she went down secretly exulting 
over the success of her finesse. 

“ Where is Miss Holland?” asked Duke, a little im- 
patiently, as she joined the group. 

“ She sent her excuses ; but she has concluded that she 
will remain behind and write to her brother. You know 
she is the model of sisters, Duke. I can only admire her 
at a distance now ; but perhaps if you were in India I 
would do the same for you.” 

“ Why, Miss Holland said she would put off writing 
her brother until night ! ” exclaimed Eva, in a voice full 
of chagrin. 

“ Well, she has altered her mind, and none of us can 
induce her to go now,” promptly responded Edith. 
“ You will ride in the phaeton with Margaret, and Eva 
can come with us,” she added, to her brother. 

Duke turned toward the carriage, but his sister 
hardly liked the expression of his face. There was some- 
thing dark and grim about it, which was a sure indication 
that matters had gone wrong with him. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


203 


She would have felt still less exultant over the success 
of her little master-piece of intrigue could she have looked 
down into her brother’s heart and read the thoughts 
there. “ Ah, J essamine, I am only the friend of Ross in 
your thought. Shall I ever be more?” 

Margaret Wheatley waited for him with her brightest 
smile, her face set off at its very best, under a mass of 
flowers and plumes. If there were any sentiment exist- 
ing between the two, this afternoon wa^ certainly the 
time to inspire it. There were all the old childish asso- 
ciations linked with this ride, for long ago Duke had 
driven Margaret Wheatley over to the waterfall with his 
new pony, and was as proud of his prowess as a young 
knight of the spurs he had just won ; and the little girl’s 
admiration for her boy-cavalier still exercised a certain 
magic over the young woman. 

Every mile of the road revived some old memory, and 
the banker’s daughter had never in her life been more 
fascinating than she was on that drive. There was little 
doubt that Duke Walbridge held at that time the fate of 
Margaret Wheatley in his hands ; that, had he chosen to 
urge his suit with eager heart and eloquent tongue, the 
bird with the beautiful plumage and the golden nest 
would have dropped easily into his outstretched hand. 

But, with all his faults, Duke was not self-complacent, 
and he would have deemed himself meanly disloyal to 
any woman to fancy that he could win her before he had 
made the effort. And somewhat after this fashion his 
thoughts went to himself: “Ah, Margaret, Margaret, 
you are brilliant and fascinating, and all that, and I had 


204 


THE HOLLANDS. 


rather have you by my side this minute than any woman 
in the world, saving one only, — one with a soul bright and 
strong, like fire, tender and soft as dew ; one whose very 
voice and presence seem to banish the devils of which I 
am possessed, — devils of sloth, vanity, selfishness. But, 
Margaret, under all the bloom and charm, what should I 
find if my soul went to you for cool springs, when it was 
hot and thirsty in the hard wrestle of life ? I know my 
weaknesses, I and God, and that the devil is forever get- 
ting the better of what little good is in me. I want a 
woman who will help to make me a truer man, who will 
inspire and exalt me, who, knowing my weaknesses, will 
hold for me still her first love and faith ; while daily, 
hourly contact with her nobleness, purity, sweetness, 
shall be the slow leaven to refine this big, sluggish lump 
of me.” 

What would Margaret Wheatley, sitting by his side, 
with her young bloom and grace, have thought of all 
this ? It would have sounded to her like the vagaries of a 
madman. She could have had no comprehension of, much 
less any sympathy with it. Yet you would have thought 
to see the two that this young man and maiden were hav- 
ing the merriest time imaginable. The light badinage 
flashed back and forth between themselves and the party 
in the two carriages behind, in which rode all of Duke’s 
sisters, with some of the young gentlemen in their train. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


205 


CHAPTER XIV. 

But somebody in the stately chamber at the Wal- 
bridges was not having a very merry time, whatever 
might be the case with the party. 

Jessamine conscientiously made ready her writing 
materials for Ross’ letter. But something was the mat- 
ter with the girl. There was no tumult, no thunderings 
nor lightnings, but chill and blackness, and creeping 
across all those soft words of Edith’s about her brother 
and Margaret Wheatley. There was a pain, too, in her 
heart, — alive-dead ache. Trying to shake it off, the girl 
rose up and dragged her heavy limbs across the room. 
“ Oh, dear!” she said, “I wish there was somebody 
in the world in whose lap I could lay down my head a 
little while; some mother or sister;” her mouth quiver- 
ing like a grieved child’s. 

Jessamine did not know what ailed her. She only 
felt so utterly forlorn and lonely in the world. For the 
first time there came across her a longing to get away 
from the splendor which had surrounded her; and 
Hannah Bray’s words returned to her : “I feel certain 
you will not come back to us as you went away, my 
child.” 


206 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Her homely friend was right there. A new world lay 
between her and that morning when she went out from 
the old house, and turned to look at it for the last time, 
with a sudden yearning in her heart. Ah ! it is only 
when we strain them suddenly, that we find how tough 
are the old fibres woven of memory and association. 

With a sudden longing, too, Jessamine looked off to 
the new home which had been offered her. Was not God 
caring for her again? She had been afraid that she 
should live a useless life in his world. There might be 
some hidden corner in the great garden of the Lord for 
her to make a little fairer ; at any rate, she would try. 

She sat down now, and cried all alone, not passion- 
ately, but large, salt, bitter tears, whose hopelessness 
did not belong to her youth, or to any age, for that mat- 
ter, but she could not cry away that dull, steady ache 
about her heart. Ross must be written to though, and 
the afternoon was wearing away, and the party of gay 
people would soon be back, and she must meet them with 
a face that would tell no story of this miserable after- 
noon. 

She tried to put a light heart into her letter ; but, de- 
spite herself, there was a heavy throb through it some- 
times. 

The new home which had opened its doors to her of a 
sudden formed the principal feature in Jessamine’s let- 
ter. Ross’ nature was a practical one, and she felt some 
uneasiness lest he should regard the whole matter as 
rather visionary and romantic. But men could not judge 
in such matters for women, as Mrs. Kent had said, and 


THE HOLLANDS . 207 

J essamine saw that she must take this affair into her own 
hands. 

The letter was not finished until long after the gay 
party had returned. 

When J essamine went downstairs her face was steady 
enough, and she listened to rapturous accounts of the 
ride, and to regrets on every side that she did not go. 

Duke, however, kept aloof from her. Indeed, there 
had come of late a slight constraint in his manner toward 
her. Always conscious of her presence, with his veins 
full of fire, and his heart throbbing like a fluttered 
maiden’s, how could the young man maintain just the 
old, light composure of his bearing, when face to face 
with the lady of his love, and that awful secret within 
his soul ? 

Jessamine was conscious of this change too; but, if 
possible, Duke’s watchfulness for her ease and happiness 
seemed to augment at this time ; so she would not allow 
herself to see any difference in his manner. After din- 
ner, that evening, some friends from New York called on 
Mrs. Ashburn and her niece, and Duke and J essamine 
were left awhile almost alone in the library, — something 
which very seldom happened nowadays. The conversa- 
tion seemed to flag between them. At last, he took up 
a volume from the table, and, running over the leaves, 
his eyes lighted on a passage which brought a sudden 
change over his face. A light shone in them, and a 
smile, half curious, half amused, played about his 
mouth. 

He looked up at Jessamine, the smile making a 


208 


THE HOLLANDS. 


warmth about the coldness of her heart. “ What booh 
have you there? ” she asked, suddenly. 

“ ‘ The Courtship of Miles Standish.’ Of course you 
have read it ? ” 

“Oh, yes, with a wonderful delight. Priscilla on her 
milk-white steed, going through the forest, with John 
Alden walking by her side that autumn day, is a picture 
that one, having seen it through the poet’s eyes, can 
never forget, — the homeliness, the truth, the tenderness, 
and the beauty.” 

“And in its pure, fresh, wholesome atmosphere* 
how all the splendor and magnificence of a fashionable 
bridal shows its tinsel and its gas-lights ! ” answered 
Duke. 

“You were smiling at some passage in your reading 
just now. What was it pleased you ? ” 

An impulse seized Duke at the moment, that left him 
no volition of his own. He handed the volume over to 
Jessamine, and pointed to the lines; but he did not tell 
her he was thinking of her, nor how well they suited his 
own case. 

So she read the passage : — 

“ ‘ But of a thundering No, point blank from the mouth of a ■woman, 
That I confess I’m ashamed of, nor am I ashamed to confess it.’” 

“ I don’t think,” said Jessamine, in her quiet, earnest 
way, as though the matter had not the slightest connec- 
tion with herself, and just as she would have said it to 
Ross, “ that any man would have much reason to be 
afraid of a woman who would c thunder ’ a ‘ No ! ’ in his 


THE HOLLANDS . 


209 


ear to such a question, asked honestly and loyally. At 
any rate such a ‘No,’ in the end, would be better than 
‘ Yes.’ ” 

Duke looked at the girl sitting there in her soft, quiet 
grace, sweet and womanly as the Puritan maiden they 
were talking about. Something leaped and shone wide 
and hungry in his eyes. 

“Your ‘ No,’ would never be thundered in any man’s 
ears, Miss J essamine. I can imagine what a low, soft, 
pitiful thing it would be ; but for all that it might rumble 
through his soul for years afterward, the death-hlow of 
all his hopes, dreams, aspirations — life itself — never 
clearing the air and making it sweeter.” 

J essamine looked up in a swift surprise, her face all in 
a heat at those strange words and the stranger tone, and 
met the shining, hungry glance. 

It confused — frightened her. How she would have 
answered, or whether at all, she never knew ; for at that 
moment Eva darted into the library. 

What more Duke would have said he never knew 
also ; for he had been overmastered and hurried quite out 
of himself. 

But the wind suddenly changed, and blew from the 
west in the soul of Jessamine Holland; and, instead of 
the dark, there was light, and gladness, and, the singing 
of birds. She did not stop to ask what had wrought the 
change ; perhaps she was afraid to. 

But the next hour was a very pleasant one* for the 
three. Eva brought up the ride again, and was ener- 
getic in her regrets that Jessamine had remained at home 
18 


210 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“I was selfish enough to hope that you would forget 
Ross for a few hours for the rest of us,” said Duke. 

“ He really wanted her to go then,” Jessamine 
thought, “ despite his penchant for Margaret Wheatley. 
Duke would not speak in that way without he meant 
it.” 

“ Meanwhile, Edith was relating to her mother the “ lit- 
tle stroke of policy,” as she called it, which had kept 
Miss Holland at home that afternoon, Mrs. Walbridge 
and Mrs. Ashburn having at the time been down town 
together. 

“ It was very cleverly managed, my dear,” answered 
the lady, when her daughter concluded; “but I do not 
like to have a daughter of my own resort to manoeuvres 
of this sort. I always was opposed to intrigues.” 

“ Oh, well, mamma, one can’t always be squeamish ; 
and I think the circumstances justified a little manage- 
ment on my part.” 

“ I hope they did. So Duke and Margaret had their 
ride quite to themselves? ” 

“ Yes ; in the phaeton. I wish Duke had seized so pro- 
pitious a chance to propose. I have no doubt as to the 
success of his suit. How I do wish that boy knew which 
side his bread was buttered ! ” 

“ I suspect the knowledge would not materially influ- 
ence his conduct. But Margaret Wheatley is such a 
charming creature, I have been in hopes that your 
brother would fall in love with her.” 

Mrs. Walbridge would never “put it” in any other 
light, never admit to herself even that the girl’s fortune 


THE HOLLANDS. 


211 


lay at the bottom of her eager desire that Margaret 
Wheatley should be her daughter-in-law. 

“ It shan’t be my fault if she isn’t,” answered Edith, 
with a toss of her head. 

Mrs. Walbridge smiled, looking on her handsome eldest 
laughter. She had great faith in Edith’s diplomatic skill 
when she exerted it; but she said now, “Be careful, 
my child, not to do anything that you may regret after- 
ward, even to bring to pass a thing which we all so 
ardently desire.” 

This was a gentle admonition, which satisfied Mrs. 
Walbridge’s conscience, while it would not be likely to 
exert any strong influence upon her daughter’s proceed- 
ings. 

Jessamine Holland carried a heart fluttering in hap- 
piness up to her room that night. The look that shone 
in Duke’s eyes made her cheeks hot and her pulses bound 
whenever she thought of it. What did it mean ? 

Jessamine asked herself that question, and then — I 
think she was afraid to answer it to herself — a singular 
tremulousness came over her ; she drew her breath hard ; 
and her eyes were like the stars with the new glory and 
joy and beauty which shone in them. And with the old 
childish prayer that night, she added another, that if her 
Father’s hand had opened the gates of the new home, the 
light and the wisdom might be given her to see clearly 
and walk wisely. And then she laid down and slept on 
it, as she had promised Mrs. Kent. The next morning 
her decision was embodied in the brief note which she 
sent to the lady : — 


212 


THE HOLLANDS .• 


“ My dear Friend : I will come and do, God helping me, the 
best I can . 


“ Sincerely yours, 

“Jessamine Holland.” 


The little note made Mrs. Kent the happiest of women 
for that daj. She was an impulsive little thing; and 
when Jessamine’s letter reached her, she was sitting 
playing with her baby, who had just been brought in, 
fresh from his hath, in snowy cambric and laces ; the small, 
fluttering hands, the sweet baby face, with its mother’s 
wide, innocent eyes, the pink cheeks and the scarlet mouth, 
making a prettier sight than any of the pictures on the 
wall. 

Richard Kent, sitting in his arm-chair in his flowered 
dressing-gown, was thinking just the same thing as he 
watched the young mother frolic with her baby on the rug, 
and hold a glittering rattle-box just above the child, who 
crowed, and laughed, and stretched his little, dimpled 
hands after the toy. 

Richard Kent was a bluff, square-shouldered, well- 
featured man, with heavy figure, and shambling gait, and 
iron-gray hair; but it was all the same, so long as he 
looked handsomer than any living man in the eyes of the 
one little woman in the world for whom he really cared. 

The toy dropped suddenly into the lap of the baby as 
his mother seized the note, which a servant had just 
brought in, and, tearing it open, Mrs. Kent gathered out 
the meaning. She was off her feet in an instant, dancing 
half across the room in her delight. 

“ 0 Dick, she’s really coming ! ” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


213 


Mr. Kent thought his wife had the prettiest little airs 
and graces imaginable. Whatever she did was perfect in 
his eyes ; and though the man had been brought to give 
his consent to this project of study, he had done it with 
just that sort of feeling with which one gratifies any 
pretty little whim of a child’s, looking at the whole 
matter in that strong, commonplace daylight which had 
served him so well in the world, and in which he regard- 
ed everything not connected with his wife and baby. 

“Let me see the letter, child,” he said, thinking that, 
now r the thing was really settled, this receiving an entire 
stranger on so intimate a footing in their household for a 
whole year might not be just the. agreeable thing his 
wife fancied. 

So with a good deal of empressement Mrs. Kent brought 
her husband the letter. He read it, scanning the hand, 
and the words closely, as he was in the habit of doing 
some new endorsement of a note. 

“ I like the looks of that,” he said, at last. “ Sensible 
young woman this ; no flourishes nor affectations there ; 
but fine, strong, and clear. Then there’s no unnecessary 
words, no going about the thing ; but brief, and to the 
point. I don’t, however, quite like this idea of having some- 
body round all the time; a man wants to feel that his 
home is his own to do just what he has a mind to in it ; and 
this Miss — what you call it — ” 

“ Miss Holland, Dick; now do remember.” 

“This Miss Holland may sometimes be in the way.” 

“ 0 Dick, if you should see her you’d never say that. 
She’ll never intrude herself on us. I know you’ll like 


214 


THE HOLLANDS. 


her ; and I am so anxious to have her come at once, and 
make the first plunge into our studies.’ ’ 

“ I don’t see what you want to bother your pretty 
head about them things, child. As though you weren’t 
wise enough and bright enough by nature. These fool- 
ish women have put this notion into your brain, when I’d 
match you against the whole of them for native wit and 
brightness.” 

“Ah, but, Dick, you dear old fellow, you’ve no idea 
how fearfully ignorant I am. I’m dreadfully ashamed 
of myself when I am thrown amongst people who have 
had a chance in the world. I hardly dare open my 
lips to say a word, lest I should let something wrong 
fall, and they will make sport of me.” 

“Let them do it if they dare,” growled Richard 
Kent. 

“Ah, but — I suppose a man cannot understand it; 
but real, well-bred ladies sometimes do these things, and 
it is very humiliating;” her voice shaking a little. 

“ Have they been troubling my little bird ? ” said the 
large, coarse man, with a voice as tender and pitiful as a 
woman’s. “ She was made for nothing in the world but 
to sing among the leaves in the sunshine, and they better 
let her alone. Nobody’s going to vex my darling. I 
hold, through their husbands and fathers, more of these 
fine ladies in my power than you suspect, or they 
either.” 

Mrs. Kent rose up, and came to her husband, and ran 
her fingers through the thick, iron-gray hair. “ Dick,” 
she said, earnestly, “you are the best man in the whole 


THE HOLLANDS. 


215 


world. I do not believe there was ever another with such 
a big heart as jours, or ever will be another afterward. 
You took the little factory girl, with all her defects and 
ignorance, and set her in the midst of all your wealth and 
splendor, and there you keep her like a crowned queen, 
and will not see a fault in her. But she grows more 
conscious of them all the time, and one of these days, 
when I am no longer your little girl-wife, and our boy 
has grown above my head, I want to be something that 
he and his father may be proud of.” 

1 ‘No danger but what we shall be all that;” the 
shrewd eyes looking with fond tenderness on the pretty 
creature before him. 

“ Ah, yes; but not wholly because I am bright and 
pretty, or all those things you think me, but because I 
am a sensible, and thoughtful, cultured woman ; that is 
what I want to be some of these days, for your sakes, my 
husband and my child.” 

Richard Kent began to discern there was some latent 
strength and energy which he had not suspected in the 
little factory girl he had taken to wife. He was amused, 
impressed, and the practical man was half convinced there 
was something in this reasoning, after all, and something 
more in his' wife’s plan than a pretty, romantic notion, 
which in the end would come to nothing ; but then it was 
best to indulge her until she got tjred of it. 

So it was settled that they should ride over to the 
Walbridges, and prevail upon Jessamine to appoint the 
earliest day possible for her entrance into their family, 
although Richard Kent could not get over his notion that 


216 


THE HOLLANDS. 


she was a book-worm, and the man had a horror of 
such. 

Meanwhile, Jessamine began to feel that it was high 
time she announced to the family her intention of going 
to the Kents. There was no need that the former should 
know anything beyond the fact that she accepted an invita- 
tion to visit the others. The whole matter was no affair of 
the Walbridges, and she shrank from the thought of their 
coolly discussing Mrs. Kent’s secret. No doubt they 
would be surprised ; but they would have no motive to ob- 
ject to the visit, even if they had any right to control her 
movements. 

But Duke was not included in his family. He had 
been her friend, in no ordinary way; he had pledged 
himself to stand in Ross’ stead to the lonely orphan sis- 
ter ; and she felt that she owed him some explanation of 
the circumstances which had determined her acceptance 
of Mrs. Kent’s invitation. Since Margaret Wheatley’s 
advent, Jessamine had fewer opportunities than formerly 
of any private talk with her young host. But one 
occurred one evening, two or three days after her decision 
had been formed, when Duke returned early in the after- 
noon and found J essamine alone in the library with some 
book, whose attraction had proved strong enough to 
keep her from accompanying the other ladies down 
town. 

Seizing her chance, when he came and sat down by the 
table near herself, Jessamine related the whole story of 
her acquaintance with Mrs. Kent, adding only, “It is 
her secret and mine. Everybody else will suppose, at 


THE HOLLANDS. 


217 


the first, at least, that I go there as her guest; for, 
though I could have no possible objection to the world’s 
knowing my relations in the household, the lady herself 
does not want cold and cynical people laughing over her 
first attempts at geography and arithmetic ; though, after 
all, if I were in her place, I should hardly care what 
people might say of me.” 

“ That is right, Miss Jessamine. We only learn how 
to live when we possess our soul in some serene climate 
where the buzz and tumult of what people may say can 
never reach us. Yet, I can understand Mrs. Kent’s 
feelings, and her secret will of course be sacred.” 

‘ 1 1 am a little uneasy as to what Ross may think of 
it all,” she went on to say. “ I wish you would do me 
the favor to write him that you, knowing all the circum- 
stances, approve of what I have done.” 

A curious smile came over his face. He looked 
at the girl. “I have not said that, Miss Jessa- 
mine.” 

“ Ah, hut you would if you knew all. It will be so 
much better than going back to the old, lonely life at 
Hannah Bray’s. Then, too, I shall be doing some little 
work in the world, and that will give me strength and 
courage.” 

u I never thought of your going back to Hannah 
Bray’s, Miss Jessamine. Such a thing is not to be so 
much as named. But I had expected that you would 
remain with us until Ross returned. You seem to have 
grown quite into one of the family. I do not see how WQ 
are to get on without you.” 


19 


218 


THE HOLLANDS . 


She looked up with her bright, grateful smile. “I 
have grown uneasy of late over the length of my visit. 
I should have returned home in a week or two, if — if 
nothing better had opened.” 

Duke rose up and paced the room. It seemed to him 
that all the light and life of his elegant home would go 
out when this quiet little girl went over his threshold. 
He stopped suddenly ; he bent over her. 

“Jessamine,” he said, in a low voice, hut it seemed 
to the girl that it had the strength and rumble of 
distant thunder, * ‘ I wish you would not go away from 
us.” 

“0 Duke, it is best — I could not be happy — 
staying any longer,” she faltered, hardly knowing in her 
confusion whether the words answered his speech or 
not. 

“Hot happy with us! 0 Jessamine, your words 
hurt me cruelly ! ” 

She looked up quickly now ; a tender shining filled 
the wide gray darkness of his eyes. He laid his hand 
on her shoulder, and she felt the strong youth’s tremor 
through every fine pulse of her being. 

Just then there was a hurrying of feet in the hall be- 
low. The people had returned home. There would be 
a burst into the library with the next moment. With a 
strong instinct to escape, J essamine hurried out of a side 
door and up to her own room. Her face hot, her pulses 
quivering, she burst into a passion of tears. Yet it 
was such delicious weeping that she would have been 
glad had it lasted forever. There was a great tremulous 


THE HOLLANDS. 


219 


light and happiness at her heart, and, like the ringing 
of bells, filling with musical chimes some May morn- 
ing, all dew, and perfume, and shining, rang the tones 
rather than the words of Duke Walbridge in her 
ear. 

Yet, with maidenly shrinking, she tried to shut her 
eyes to the feeling which lay far down in the limpid 
words and tones, and gave them their real worth and 
meaning, — getting up and bathing her hot cheeks and 
trembling fingers, and chiding herself for being such a 
little fool as to be so happy. 

Jessamine’s announcement that she was to visit the 
Kents created a fresh sensation in the Walbridge family. 
To some members of it, no doubt, this appeared a most 
agreeable way of getting rid of a guest whose pres- 
ence might frustrate their dearly cherished plans. 

Still the regrets were manifold and polite, and on the 
part of Eva and her next elder sister, Kate, were, no 
doubt, sincere; but Gertrude entered too warmly into 
her mother’s and elder sister’s plans not to sympathize 
with their feeling regarding Jessamine’s further stay 
among them. 

Mr. and Mrs. Kent came around to expedite Jessa- 
mine’s removal with all the arguments and entreaties in 
their power, and the former had a golden pass-key to the 
Walbridges, which it seemed the grim stone warders on 
each side of the front door instinctively comprehended 
and honored. 

So there was a great deal of complimentary talk about 
the Kents making a sudden raid, and stealing their guest 


220 


THE HOLLANDS. 


away, and their reluctance to letting her go, on the part 
of the Walbridges ; but for all that Mrs. Kent maintained 
and carried her point, which was, that J essamine should 
join them with small delay. 

“ Anyhow, it won’t be as though you were going off 
home. We can come to see you every day or two, can’t 
we, Duke? ” said Eva, hovering between her guest and 
her brother, and addressing both after the Kents had 
left. 

Duke had not been present during their call, but his 
sister had related its result to him. 

Margaret Wheatley, who stood near, answered for 
him: — 

“ Yes, if you will persist in running away from us, 
Miss Holland, we will take our revenge by running after 
you ; so you will not easily get rid of us.” 

The young heiress was, after all, not quite certain 
whether she was sorry, or not, that J essamine Holland 
was going away. She liked the girl, to use her own 
term, immensely. There was something fresh, piquant, 
original, about all which Jessamine said and did, which 
had a fine flavor to the tastes of the city girl, tired and 
sated with the commonplace, fashionable type. 

Still, in a subtle way, Mrs. Ashburn’s and the Wad- 
bridges’ influence had been at work with Margaret Wheat- 
ley. She had begun to think that it would be very nice 
to have Duke fall in love with her; that it was somehow 
quite his duty to do it, and that Jessamine Holland might 
possibly stand in the way of such an agreeable consum- 
mation of affairs. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


221 


“I never could, of course, fall in love first” languid- 
ly mused the young heiress; “but I do believe I like 
Duke Walbridge better than any other man I ever saw. 
He’s odd, and moody, and incomprehensible; but all that 
only makes him more interesting.” 

“Mamma,” said Gertrude, “it’s the oddest thing that 
the Kents should take such a violent fancy to Miss Hol- 
land. What do you suppose it means? ” 

“ The solemn riddle is plain enough to me,” answered 
Edith. “It all comes of Miss Holland’s setting Mrs. 
Kent right, when the lady made that ridiculous blunder 
at the lunch-party over Dante, the ancient Greek author. 
I wouldn’t at all wonder if the two had entered into 
some nice little compact, whereby Mrs. Kent should be 
inducted into the first rudiments of the English language, 
with Miss Holland for professor. At all events, it is a 
very comfortable way of getting rid of the young lady 
at just this crisis. I am heartily obliged to Mrs. 
Kent.” 

“ Edith, I do not quite like to hear you talk so. There 
are some thoughts one had better keep to themselves,” 
admonished her mother. 

“I wonder if it is any worse to have the thoughts 
than to tell them, mamma,” laughed the young lady. 

There was no doubt that Edith Walbridge was»shrewd 
and brilliant, and that her talent for intrigue once aroused, 
it would be difficult to circumvent her. 

“ There, Dick, didn’t I tell you you’d like her? ” said 
Mrs. Kent, nestling up to her husband, as they drove 
home. “I am so delighted that she is coming to us so 


222 


THE HOLLANDS. 


soon, though I don’t wonder those people are reluctant 
to let her go.” 

“ Nonsense,” answered the shrewd, practical man. 
11 A great deal of that talk was on the surface. I could 
see down deep enough into it, to find the hollowness 
ander all the fine words. I miss my guess if some of 
them don’t feel glad to let her take another berth. There’s 
a young man in the family — seen him in the father’s 
office, shrewd, good-hearted fellow — real stuff about 
him. I shouldn’t wonder now, if some of the family 
had an eye out for him. Well, thank the Lord, my little 
Wild-flower is not a fine lady.” 

So the changes rung. 


THE HOLLANDS, 


223 


CHAPTER XV. 

Six months have come and gone since J essamine Hol- 
land first entered the household of the Kents. These 
months have formed on the whole the smoothest, happiest 
half year of her life. It is the spring-time of her youth, 
the bloom, the dew, the sunshine of the late May, for it 
is four autumns since Ross left her, and the gate of her 
teens closed softly some time ago, and Jessamine is near 
to her twenty-second birthday. 

Yet to most young girls the change from the "VVal- 
bridges to the Kents would have presented some contrasts 
hardly agreeable. There was much less social excite- 
ment in the latter home, and whereas J essamine had had 
her mornings for calls abroad or receptions at home, in- 
terfused with all those pleasant stimulants of talk and 
merriment which enter far into the life of fashionable 
ladies, she now had one unvarying routine of teaching, 
not of that sort either which would have inspired and fed 
her own faculties, but the primary rules and first princi- 
ples, and, if the facts must be admitted, they often proved 
slow drudgery to both teacher and pupil. 

The mornings were religiously devoted to study. 11 If 
it is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well,” said Jes- 


224 


THE HOLLANDS. 


samine. “We will give to it the best of the day, and 
earn our ease and pleasure afterward.” So all company, 
all recreation, had to bend to this rule, but for all that it 
was hard work to the young souls who brought to it 
whatever mental or moral forces were in them. J essa- 
mine had daily reason for thankfulness that she had gone 
over the ground step by step, with “ little help ; that in 
her studies she had been a law to herself.” She knew 
all the lions in the path, and learned also, what was 
most important for her, that riches and prosperity are 
often a greater hindrance to study and discipline than 
poverty and hardship. 

As for Mrs. Kent, the patience and courage of the 
poor little woman failed her often. She had no idea that 
study was such tiresome work as she found it, and if the 
truth must be owned, she broke down a good many times, 
and cried like a school-girl over the conjugation of a 
verb, or an example in long division. There were times 
when she would have been heartily glad of some excuse 
which would have justified her to herself in giving up the 
whole thing, but her pride, and, better than that, some 
sense of duty, kept her from yielding to the inclina- 
tion. 

If she had had any other teacher in the world than Jes- 
samine Holland, Mrs. Kent would never have persisted 
in her purpose ; but the former learned that, added to 
her duties of instructress, she had to soothe, to encour- 
age, to inspire her pupil, and it required sometimes a 
large stock of patience to accomplish all this. The dis- 
cipline would do Jessamine no harm in the end; on the 


THE HOLLANDS. 


225 


contrary, real service; but for all that it was trying 
sometimes when Mrs. Kent broke down in nervousness 
and tears. 

It was not to be wondered at. We all have to pay a 
terrible price for intellectual improvidence in our youth, 
whether the fault be ours or others, and the motive which 
had inspired Mrs. Kent’s purpose of self-culture was one 
that certainly did her great honor; but purpose and 
achievement are two different things, and the daily 
drudgery of any grand work is never heroic. Just look 
about among the people whom you know, and see how 
many women there are whom you honestly believe would 
be equal to this work, which Mrs. Kent had set herself 
to do ! 

But there was another side to this study, and the 
friendship between these two young women, so singu- 
larly brought together, took deep root in their natures. 
Neither had ever known the worth and the happiness of 
a true friendship, and, without that experience, either as 
a blessed reality or a tender memory, any woman’s life is 
barren of something which neither matrimony nor ma- 
ternity can supply. 

Each of the friends had much to give the other, and 
every day each also seemed to grow fonder of the other. 
In fact, Richard Kent used often to declare, in his good- 
natured, humorous way, that he was getting jealous of 
his wife’s regard for Miss Holland ; it was putting his 
“ nose so terribly out of joint.” 

The man was just as ready to indulge his wife’s u no- 
tion for study ” as he would have been her liking for a 


226 


THE HOLLANDS. 


new set of jewelry, and classed them both in the same 
category, as a pretty litile feminine freak. 

All the drudgery was wisely hidden from his eyes by 
both pupil and teacher, for if he had known all the sore 
perplexities which his wife underwent in carrying out her 
purpose, the man would not have been so complacent 
over it ; he would have said, very decidedly, “ Throw 
books to the dogs. You’re smart enough for me, child, 
and that is all that’s necessary.” Not that Mrs. Kent 
would have regarded any such dictum as unalterable, for 
her husband was no petty domestic tyrant, and in one 
way or another she would have been sure to carry her 
point. 

But it was better that the worries and anxieties should 
be kept between the friends ; and this was not difficult 
when the master of the house was absent every morning 
during study hours, and found bright young faces ready 
to greet him at dinner. 

Jes^mine Holland was an element of life, force, and 
refinement in the household, which, in many ways, was 
just what it needed. Its master was quite contented 
that she should be there, and, indeed, liked her better 
than any woman he had ever seen, except his wife ; for 
Bichard Kent, after his life of tumbling about the world, 
had not the highest opinion of women in general, and 
regarded them as usually a compound of nerves, whims, 
and affectations. 

Such an opinion never makes a man better or nobler ; 
it is always a misfortune to him to hold it ; still the be- 
lief did Richard Kent as little mischief as it could any 


THE HOLLANDS . 


227 


man. His wife, at least, had the benefit of his opinion, 
in that he regarded all her virtues and sweetness as 
altogether exceptional ; and this made the man, if possible, 
a little more self-complacent than ever over his own 
choice. 

Jessamine Holland liked to talk with her host, for she 
had, with her bright intelligence and quick sympathies, 
a remarkable power of getting at the best side of every- 
body. She liked, too, to look at the world through the 
eyes of this man. It was not at all like talking with 
Duke Walbridge. Richard Kent had none of the fine 
nature of her brother or her friend, and his coarseness 
sometimes shocked the young girl, who, bred in poverty, 
had always been accustomed to inbred refinement of 
speech and manner ; but, for all that, though J essamine 
missed something from the Walbridge household, which 
people of social culture possess, though brain and heart 
are shallow, yet, on the whole, the freedom and the in- 
dependence of her present home had its advantages. 
She could be certain that here she was giving quite as 
much as she received, and she had never any uncomfort- 
able consciousness that she was the subject of a half-pat- 
ronizing criticism, and Jessamine did not know how 
heavily this feeling had weighed upon her until she was 
quite free from it. Her brother’s deed could not wholly 
cancel the debt which she owed to the Walbridges’ hos- 
pitality, nor a dread at the last lest this might become a 
little irksome. She missed Duke’s society more than 
she would own to herself, but then she had been looking 
Hannah Bray’s in the face j and as for Eva, though she 


228 


THE HOLLANDS. 


must always love the child dearly, still, in a different 
way, Mrs. Kent made up for that loss. 

Sometimes Jessamine Holland’s memory caught up 
suddenly the look that blazed in Duke’s eyes, and the 
tones of his voice that afternoon in the library ; but her 
heart always grew loud and her cheeks hot when she 
remembered that time. She dared not think upon it; 
she put it away, with a frightened consciousness that 
there was a great, unfathomable ocean in her own soul 
into which she dared not gaze ; a mighty passion of love, 
self-forgetfulness, devotion, of which every true woman 
has at some time of her life some awful prescience. But, 
with all her courage, Jessamine Holland shrank terrified 
from that side of herself, — would not let it stir into life 
and consciousness. 

There was another moment of which she could never 
think, though its memory came up sometimes and 
clutched at her soul, and choked her breath ; it was the 
moment when she came to say “ Good-by” to Duke 
Walbridge. She had parted with all the rest of his 
family cordially and easily enough ; when it came to Eva, 
it is true, there was a keen regret ; but as Duke accom- 
panied her to Mr. Kent’s carriage, and said, “ You will 
allow me to ride over with you, Miss Jessamine?” a 
sudden terror of grief overpowered the girl. 

“No; not to-night,” her answer struggled out. 
c< Thank you; but — but, there is a reason; do not be 
offended.” 

Duke fancied, in a vague way, she was sorry at leav- 
ing them all, and was too much absorbed with his own 


THE HOLLANDS. 


229 


pain at that moment to give much heed to Jessamine’s 
manner; he only closed the door, and said u Good-by,” 
as a prisoner might have said it, going back from the 
warm light of some beloved face into the cold, dark gloom 
of his cell ; and it was the truth, that his elegant home, 
with the stone lions in front, looked very much like a 
prison when he turned back toward it, listening to the 
sound of the wheels that were bearing away the warmth 
and life of his life ; and yet J essamine Holland was only 
going away three miles, and he could see her every few 
days. 

The rest of the household, including Mrs. Ashburn 
and her niece, stood on the steps to witness Jessamine’s 
departure. The Walbridges had been polite to the last; 
indeed, they had made renewed attempts at cordiality as 
the time drew near for J essamine to leave them. 

Still, notwithstanding all the parting regrets, there 
was a long breath of relief drawn by more than one of 
the company assembled on the steps when Jessamine 
Holland rolled away with Mr. and Mrs. Kent. It would 
certainly have been a much more satisfactory finale if 
the visit had concluded with a grand display of bridal 
ceremonies and graces, and these wound up with charm- 
ing blushes and tears, and impressive partings, and an 
attractive honeymoon programme. 

That this was not the case was not her fault, Mrs. 
Walbridge philosophically reflected. She certainly had 
wished the young girl every good in life, and was more 
than ready to use all her influence to promote Miss Hol- 
land’s welfare ; but as a mother, to whose heart the hap- 


230 


THE HOLLANDS. 


piness of her only son was dearer than her own, she 
could not help feeling a sense of relief that there was 
now no other element in the household to neutralize the 
effect of Margaret Wheatley’s society on the young man. 
So Mrs. Walbridge put the whole matter to her own 
soul, and it gave her a very pleasant feeling of self-justi- 
fication. 

Under one pretence and another, therefore, the ladies’ 
visit was prolonged by the Walbridges, and Duke, his 
soul restless, lonely, hungry, was fain to turn to Mar- 
garet for the amusement which her sparkling talk always 
afforded him, and the young heiress found Duke Wal- 
bridge, as she confided to her aunt, more agreeable than 
any of her New York admirers. He was peculiar 
and obstinate, — one was never quite certain of this Duke 
Walbridge, — but that only made him the more attrac- 
tive after all. 

There was a straight path open to the money-bags of 
the rich banker, if Duke would only turn into it. 
“ What a fool he will be to let such good luck slip ! ” 
said Edith, with angry impatience, to her mother ; and 
Mrs. Walbridge’ s soul echoed back the words, if her lips 
did not, — “ What a fool ! ” 

Meanwhile there was no lack of visiting at the Kents. 
Duke went over oftener than his mother wished; still 
Eva or some other of his sisters frequently accompanied 
him. Sometimes, too, Margaret Wheatley rode over 
with the young man, and she was even gracious enough 
to say to Duke that she could never forgive Mrs. Kent 
for taking that charming Miss Holland away from them. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


231 


The young lady’s visit was, however, cut short, great- 
ly to everybody’s vexation, by the sudden illness of her 
father, which compelled her immediate return home with 
her aunt. 

The Walbridges, however, secured their arrangements 
for the summer, and had laid out a most attractive pro- 
gramme of watering places and mountain trips. It all 
came to pass as they anticipated. Everybody had a 
delightful season, fluttering about from one fashionable 
haunt to another ; but when the autumn came, the old 
friendly relations hardly seemed changed betwixt Duke 
Walbridge and Margaret Wheatley. 

0 money-bags of the banker ! And there were so 
many sons-in-law at hand for you, and here was one who 
might have the gold for the asking ! 

So, as I said, the six months have come and gone, and 
Jessamine Holland sits in the pleasant autumn afternoon, 
in the library, with Mrs. Kent. Any watchful observer 
would detect the change which these six months have 
wrought in the young matron. It penetrates even the 
tones of her voice ; it has imparted a new maturity and 
refinement to the young, bright face. She has made up 
her mind a great many times during the last half year 
that she is only a very stupid little fool, and that there is 
no use of her trying to make anything of herself. 

In some of her despondent moods she would have been 
very glad to have Jessamine Holland think the same, 
though in her clearer and higher ones she has an inex- 
pressible joy in the consciousness that she has not ignobly 

broken down, as she knows must have been the case over 
* 


232 


THE HOLLANDS. 


and over again, had it not been for the patience and per- 
sistence of her young teacher. 

The windows were open, and soft winds slid through 
them; you could hear the hum of the brook through the 
golden stillness. The earth lay in that trance of beauty 
which possesses her in the late September. Into those 
soft west winds it did not seem that a chill could ever 
wander, or that vision of blue sky ever be marred by 
a cloud. 

There was no use trying to read. J essamine laid down 
her book and walked to the window, and looked out. 
Mrs. Kent, a little way off, frolicked with the bit of pink 
and white flesh on the floor. 

Suddenly she looked up. “ What are you thinking 
about, Miss J essamine ? 5 5 she asked. 

“ Of what God said over his world when he first 
made it, that it was good. It is a world to fall in love 
with to-day, and though in a little while I know it will 
grow cold and bare and withered, still, through the 
storms and the snows that are coming I shall carry a 
vision of the beauty and splendor of this hour ; and they 
will abide with me.” 

“Aunt Dess, Aunt Dess, see here!” and the boy 
tottered toward her, holding up a knight in armor on 
horseback, which his father had brought him home that 
day, — a pretty, fragile, painted toy. 

Jessamine had a passionate fondness for children. She 
caught up the little fellow in her arms, and smothered 
the sweet, dewy face with her kisses, and the young mother 
looked on with her smiling eyes. “ You are a tuberose, 


THE HOLLANDS. 


283 


you are a violet, you are a lily ; you are just the concen- 
trated sweetness and beauty of all flowers, ” went on Jes- 
samine to the boy. 

“ You are an exacting little tyrant,” laughed the 
mother. “ You make all the household bend to your 
tempers and whims. There’s your father now, — you 
just lead him around by the nose and make a bound 
slave of him, only he does not see the chains. He thinks 
he can’t come home to dinner without bringing you a toy, 
until the house is strewn with the wrecks of your play- 
things. Ah ! my boy, your mother’s play-house consisted 
of a rag-baby and a little pewter tea-set, and half-a-dozen 
clam-shells. It is an awful contrast.” 

Mrs. Kent had a half-pathetic, half-comical way of 
putting the contrasts betwixt her old life and her present 
one, which often amused and touched Jessamine. 

The two young women had, in their long, close, home 
intimacy, confided their histories to each other, — both 
pitiful enough, though in different ways. 

A little gravity slid into Mrs. Kent’s face. 

“Ah! Miss Jessamine,” she said, after a moment’s 
silence, “ it seems very strange, very hard, the way things 
happen in this world. To think that half the money which 
is thrown away on my baby’s play-house would # have 
given me the education for which I am having such a 
hard struggle now !” 

“And then I should have had no pupil,” said Jessa- 
mine, running her fingers through the golden, glancing 
heap of curls in her lap. “ That sounds anything 
but generous, doesn’t it ? Still I think it must always be 
20 


234 


THE HOLLANDS. 


a comfort to find how our own losses are somebody’s 
good.” 

“And I should not have had my friend,” answered 
Mrs. Kent, and her eyes shone tenderly on J essamine. 

“ Ah, my dear, what a fortunate thing that blunder of 
mine was, about Dante ! I see very well how absurd it 
was, and I have got over the soreness enough to be able 
to laugh at my own ignorance. It was, as I said, the 
most fortunate blunder I ever made, and I really shall 
congratulate myself over it as long as I live.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Mrs. Kent ! I am sure I have the 
greater cause to be grateful to you for your false 
chronology.” 

“ How happy we have been together ! ” continued the 
young wife. ‘ 1 Dick was saying to me this morning that 
he had grown pretty much of my mind about staying at 
home this summer, instead of taking a trip somewhere to 
the sea or the mountains. He doesn’t suspect that the 
studies were the anchor that held us fast during all these 
pleasant days ; but I am sure it was best. I am glad now 
that we did not go.” 

“ Oh, I am rejoiced to hear you say that ! You don’t 
know how good it sounds to me,” exclaimed Jessamine 
with great fervor, and the tears came into her eyes. 

Mrs. Kent looked a little surprised. 

“ I can tell you now that it was an awful struggle to 
give up that trip, when you proposed it to me, and left the 
decision in my hands.” 

“Was it ? How strange I had no suspicion of that from 
your manner ! ” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


285 


“ How could it be otherwise, Mrs. Kent? You know 
I am young, and have been shut away all my life from the 
world, and I was hungry and thirsty to see something of 
it ; but I saw, too, that to break in upon your studies this 
summer would be a fatal mischief. You were just then, 
as Ross would say, in the strain and tug ; if you let go, 
all would be lost. I was your friend, and I said to 
myself, 1 J essamine, J essamine, it is not her pleasure 
or yours that you are to consider, but what is for your 
friend’s best good.’ I knew where that was; but for all it 
was very hard to sacrifice the journey, for it was the first 
summer of my life which ever offered me a great pleas- 
ure, and it cost me more than one sharp struggle to put 
it aside.” 

“It was heroic,” replied Mrs. Kent, gazing at her 
friend with eyes in whose fondness some sudden moisture 
grew. “How in the world, at your age, could you do 
this ! ” 

“I think,” answered Jessamine, slowly and gravely, 
“ that early troubles make one old. I do not mean in 
heart or feeling necessarily, but in whatever requires 
wisdom and self-control.” 

“ I can’t perceive that my troubles ever had that effect 
on me,” replied Mrs. Kent, with one of her little quizzical 
smiles. “ But I see now it would have been just as you 
say if I had given up the studies at that point and gone 
away. I never should have taken them up again. Now 
they begin to grow easier and more interesting. Then 
they were utterly hateful.” 

“It was worth the summer to get around that sharp 


236 


THE HOLLANDS. 


corner. You know that I have already told you that, 
Mrs. Kent.” 

“ Yes ; though I doubted it at the time, it seemed such 
miserable, dragging work. I think you are always right, 
Miss Jessamine. How much good you have done me! ” 

Mrs. Kent spoke the truth. Even her husband marked 
the change in his young wife, and found some improve- 
ment in what he had before fancied perfect. It was not 
alone the lessons which Mrs. Kent received from Jessa- 
mine Holland which shaped her life to finer issues, though 
their discipline was invaluable. It was the daily associa- 
tion with a refined and high-toned nature. Mrs. Kent 
was observant, bright, assimilative. She soon acquired 
new habits of speaking, and, deeper than that, of thinking 
and feeling. Nature had done well by the little factory 
girl in the beginning, but, bright and susceptible herself, 
her heart and moral instincts had been trained as little as 
her manners, and although a natural grace pervaded the 
latter, as a bright kindliness did the former, still both 
needed culture and higher examples. 

Jessamine unconsciously stimulated her friend’s whole 
nature by this daily thought and intimacy, as she never 
could have done except through their mutual affection. 
She was not half conscious of the work she was doing, and 
did not discern the change in her friend from day to day ; 
but a stranger who had not met Mrs. Kent for six 
months would at once have detected it. 

Jessamine’s gaze went out of the window again. 
Among green leaves and purpling of grape-vines, among 
masses of bloom that heaped the ground with gorgeous 


THE HOLLANDS. 


237 


color, was that slow slipping of the soft west winds, and 
the distant hymn of the brooks, soft and sweet as the 
shaking of silver bells among the mountains of 
Switzerland. 

Mrs. Kent’s gaze followed her friend. “I think, 
Miss Jessamine, what you were saying about the year 
applies to human faces too, — the faces that we love, no 
matter how old, and wrinkled, and changed they grow, 
the vision of their youth and loveliness will cling to us 
always.” 

Even this remark showed the influence of her friend, 
the new heights to which Mrs. Kent had attained. It was 
not only in finer expressions, but it was in the new power, 
life, thought, which pervaded all her speech. 

When her youth was gone, Richard Kent would not 
find, as so many husbands do, that everything else was 
gone with the pretty bloom, with the airs and graces, and 
that there only remained to him an empty-minded, 
* querulous, selfish woman. 

J essamine turned quickly, her cheeks in a glow.' 11 Oh, 
I am sure it must be so with all faces that we love,” she 
said. “ There is Ross ; if his hair were one mass of snow, 
and his face another of wrinkles, it would never be old 
to me ; it would wear the fresh boyhood, the manly youth, 
that is forever in my heart.” 

‘ 1 And if this is true of your brother, it must he still 
more so of that other closer, tenderer love that is coming 
to you one of these days, Miss Jessamine,” said Mrs. 
Kent, very gravely ; but there was a little mischievous 
twinkle of a smile around her mouth. 


238 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Jessamine turned and looked out of the window. One 
watching could scarcely have told whether the soft bloom 
deepened in her cheeks. 

The two women talked of love sometimes ; but J essa- 
mine usually concluded with, u I do not think I shall 
ever love anybody so well as Ross. He is my knight, 
pure, and noble, and true as any who rode out in search 
of the Sangreal, or sat at King Arthur’s Round Table, 
while his heart throbbed high over those old 'tales of 
heroism and chivalrous daring that stir our souls now like 
the sound of trumpets.” She said something of that 
sort now. 

“ Oh, but that other must come ; he shall,” Mrs. Kent 
replied, energetically; and then Duke Walbridge rose up 
before her. Were those frequent visits of his to Jessa- 
mine Holland simply the courtesies which a generous 
nature owed to the sister of the preserver of his life ? 

Jessamine talked of the young man often, and told 
Mrs. Kent that he had taken the place of Ross during 
his absenco, and was a brother to her. Was that name a 
pretty fiction simply? 

Mrs. Kent, with her quick woman instincts, had caught 
something in the young man’s eyes when they went sud- 
denly in search of her friend. Still she wisely kept all 
that to herself; and she was certain, had Jessamine Hol- 
land once admitted to herself that Duke Walbridge was 
the one love elected by her heart against her will, she 
might be silent, giving no sign until she went down to 
her grave ; but she would not disguise the fact with a false- 
hood. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


239 


Mrs. Kent only did her friend justice here. Jessa- 
mine had not admitted to her own heart more than her 
lips avowed. 

“We have been very happy together, you and I, this 
summer ,’ 1 said Mrs. Kent, coming over to the window 
where J essamine stood. “ It doesn’t cost me a pang now 
to think we relinquished the watering-places.” 

“ Nor me either.” Jessamine turned quickly around, 
with the clear sweetness of a smile which you instinctive- 
ly felt would never play man or woman false. 

Just then the phaeton drove up the avenue, and Mr. 
Kent, who sat inside, lifted his hat to the ladies. 

“ Come — ready for your drive !” he shouted. 

“We will be, in five minutes,” answered his wife, 
from the window. 


240 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

The day succeeding this talk betwixt Jessamine Hol- 
land and Mrs. Kent, the Walbridges reached their home 
in New York, the feminine portion of the household a 
good deal worn out with a summer full of excitement and 
gayety. 

“ After all, it is pleasant to he at home once more,” 
each one ejaculated, as all filed into the old rooms, and 
settled themselves in the old places. 

In the evening, too, the family gathered together in its 
best mood to talk over the events of the season, the 
pleasures and the triumphs. On the whole, it had been a 
very satisfactory summer to Mrs. Walbridge ; the beauty 
of her daughters had created a profound sensation 
wherever they had alighted ; and they had been constant- 
ly beset with attentions of that flattering kind which 
could not fail to gratify the heart of an ambitious mother. 

Still, for all that, the great object of the season had not 
been achieved. Mrs. Walbridge could not tell, for her 
life, whether the relations of her son and Margaret Wheat- 
ley were not precisely the same now that they had been 
during the previous spring. It was very tantalizing. To 
think of that young man’s throwing away such a golden 


THE HOLLANDS. 


241 


opportunity ! He Lad been Margaret’s constant cavalier 
during the season, and there was no doubt that she pre- 
ferred him to any of the host of beaux that were always 
fluttering about her, while Mrs. Ashburn looked on Duke, 
smiling and propitious. 

Still, when the families separated in Hew York, Mrs. 
Walbridge had no reason to suppose that the basis of a 
most cordial friendship, laid in old memories and associa- 
tions, had been altered. Of course matters could not go 
on so always. Some mother’s fortunate son might step 
in and secure the hand of Margaret Wheatley and her 
father’s money-bags before another winter had passed. 

Duke’s mother had hitherto refrained from any hint of 
her wishes, and Edith had managed affairs most skilfully ; 
but the former had began to feel that something might 
be gained now by sounding Duke ; at any rate, if silence 
had achieved nothing, not much harm could be done by 
speaking. 

11 Here we are all at home, and not one of us engaged ! ” 
said Gertrude, in her lively way. “It’s really too bad, 
mamma, that you should bring us all back just as wo 
went. I’m sure it isn’t my fault.” 

She tried to look very innocent and demure ; she cer- 
tainly succeeded in looking very pretty while she said 
this ; but for all that it was quite manifest that Gertrude 
was perfectly conscious that she was not uttering a word 
of the truth, and that the fault of her not being engaged 
was entirely her own. 

Mrs. Walbridge laughed. “ I suppose I ought to be 
classed with the unlucky mammas,” she said, iC to find 
21 


242 


THE HOLLANDS. 


you all back on my hands at the end of the season. X 
think it was your place, Duke, to set an example to your 
sisters.” 

“My sisters are great humbugs and awful bothers, ’’ 
answered Duke, playfully. “ I’ve had to dance attend- 
ance on them through a whole summer’s campaign of 
fashions and frivolities, not one particle to my taste, when 
I would have vastly preferred being shut up stairs in my 
den with my books — ” 

. “ 0 you old be'ar! ” said Eva, hanging about her 
brother. 

“Wait until I get through, child. But, for all that, 
I think I like my sisters better than any young women 
I’ve seen since I left home.” 

There was a general laugh, in the midst of which Mrs. 
Walbridge and her eldest daughter exchanged glances, 
and each knew what was in the thought of the other ; a 
wonder whether, had Jessamine Holland been of their 
party, Duke would have spoken just these words. 

“ I should be very glad to hear you compliment us so 
highly, Duke,” replied Edith, “ had not Margaret Wheat- 
ley been one of our party.” 

“Oh, yes!” answered Eva, jumping to the point, 
with the thoughtless eagerness of a girl. “ It would be 
delightful to have Margaret Wheatley for a sister-in-law. 
I never thought of it before, but I really do wish, Duke, 
that you and she would fall in love with one another. 
How nice it would be ! ” 

It was out now, for good or for evil. Mrs. Walbridge 
saw her time had come, and the lady’s voice was never 


THE HOLLANDS. 


243 


keyed to a more steadied softness than when she added, 
“Yes, my dear, there i3 only one young woman in the 
world whom I could cordially welcome to my heart as my 
daughter-in-law, and her name is Margaret Wheatley.” 

“I’m sure all Duke’s sisters feel precisely as you do, 
mamma,” added Edith. 

“ There, now, Duke, it is every man’s duty to marry 
to please his family,” continued Gertrude, who enjoyed 
having her tongue unloosed at last. “You and Marga- 
ret will certainly have to marry each other.” 

“You are glib enough over a man’s duties to his 
family,” answered Duke, trying to parry the attack with 
a joke. “ But what is a woman’s under the same 
circumstances?” 

More than one voice was ready with, “ Precisely the 
same.” 

Edith was particularly submissive at that time. “Iam 
sure,” she said, in a tone so meek that one might never 
have suspected how seldom she failed of carrying her own 
point, “I should never think of marrying a man whom 
my family did not approve.” 

“ I devoutly hope none of my children will ever do 
that. I think it would break my heart,” rejoined Mrs. 
Walbridge. 

“Duke,” said Eva, still playfully, “you see it must 
be Margaret Wheatley and none other.” 

Duke looked around on the circle of women, his glance 
going from one face to the other. Then he shook his 
head slowly. 

“ If Margaret Wheatley would have me,” he said, “ I 


244 


THE HOLLANDS. 


do not think it would be well for her, well for me 
either.” 

“ Why not? ” asked more than one voice. 

Again his look went, doubtful and grave, around the 
circle. “ I don’t think you would understand if I should 
tell you,” he said. 

“ What more could a man ask ? ” said Edith, with great 
energy. “ Margaret Wheatley has 'youth, beauty, grace, 
such as do not often fall to the lot of woman, and her 
character is as lovely as she is beautiful.” 

1 1 Edith is right, Duke, ’ ’ replied his mother. 1 1 Marga- 
ret is all that, and my long friendship for the family 
makes me regard her almost as one of my own children. 
I have hoped, if you ever made up your mind to marry at 
all, and I suppose you will some day, your choice will 
fall where mine does.” 

“And then, Margaret is so rich,” continued Eva. 
“ Why, she would bring you her weight in gold! ” 

None of the others would have mentioned this fact to 
Duke, in enumerating Margaret Wheatley’s attractions. 
With none of them, however, would it in reality weigh so 
lightly. But Eva was fond of Margaret, and thought it 
would be a delightful thing to have her for a sister-in-law, 
and so threw the money argument into the scale as one 
additional make-weight. 

“All that you say is true,” answered Duke, with his 
gravest face, “ and yet, and yet — ” 

“ Well, what is it? ” asked Edith, impatiently. 

“ Mother — girls, I should be very glad to gratify you 
in my choice of a wife, but I should wrong myself,' and 


THE HOLLANDS. 


245 


another equally, by making your choice the chiefest con- 
sideration.” 

This was so true that nobody could gainsay it. 

After a moment’s silence, his mother asked, “ But, 
Duke, that is not meeting the question. What is in the 
way of your and Margaret’s being happy together ? ” 

The talk which commenced in playfulness, at least on 
the surface, had grown serious enough now. 

“Because, mother, Margaret is not the right sort of 
woman for me. I grant she is all that you say in beauty 
and charms ; but that is not everything.” 

Then that inward courtesy and reverence for woman- 
hood, which makes the real knighthood of every true 
man, flashed up suddenly in Duke Walbridge’s angry 
color and gesture. 

“ I think it’s contemptible for any fellow to sit down 
and say what a woman could not be to him, whom he has 
never asked to have him, and who, very likely, might 
refuse him if he did ; but you’ve compelled me into this 
sort of talk against my will.” 

“ Well, we’re ready to take the responsibility,” replied 
Edith, thoroughly provoked with her brother, and yet a 
little touched, in spite of herself, at this instance of his 
delicate chivalry for her sex. “ Do tell us, for once, 
Duke Walbridge, what kind of a woman would suit you ? ” 

Then for the first time Duke told them, and they all 
listened breathlessly. 

“It is hard to speak of such a thing,” he said, half 
timidly, half to himself ; “but I will try. She must be 
a woman who can think and feel with me, — a woman 




246 


THE HOLLANDS. 


who by original, immortal sympathies can enter into sor- 
row and grief, into the needs and limitations of other 
souls wherever she finds them, — one who feels her kindred 
with all humanity. A woman, too, with swift enthusi- 
asms for whatever is good or true in the thought or deed 
of all ages and all men, — a woman with a mind alert, 
absorbent, comprehensive. Mind, now, I am not mean- 
ing a genius or a great woman, as the world goes, but a 
woman who would idealize life and all its duties and re- 
lations, who could not disappoint or disenchant me, — a 
woman believing in God and in man, and whose faith is 
dearer to her than life or death, — a woman who, when 
the test came, would always be steadfast through all 
obloquy and all sacrifices of what her sex would most 
prize, — a woman, too, full of sweet household ways, and 
bright fancies, overflowing often with mirth and humor. 
I think I should like her best, subject to little surprises 
of moods, grave in the midst of her sparkles, with play- 
fulness glancing out suddenly from her most thoughtful 
moments. Such a woman would be a gift of God, a per- 
petual inspiration to my heart and soul and life, making 
a man of me, who feel sometimes in utter self-contempt 
that I am less than one now.” 

It was seldom that Duke Walbridge laid bare so much 
of his soul to his family. Only in exceptional moments 
like the present did some strong wave of his inmost being 
outflow in words like these. 

Edith was the first one who spoke. u Duke, you are 
a goose. Do you suppose such a woman as you have been 
drawing ever lived, or that you will ever find such a 


THE HOLLANDS. 


247 


one ? I should imagine the whole thing some fancy of a 
love-sick sophomore, strip it of all that fine talk.” 

“ My son,” said his mother, very kindly, “I know 
what women are. You have been painting a beautiful 
myth.” 

u Then I have no right to marry another. I should 
do a deadly wrong to myself, to my wife also, because 
she would not be the woman of my heart’s election. She 
might make another man very happy ; he might greatly 
prefer her to such a one as I have tried to show you ; 
but every man must choose after his own kind. I do 
not quarrel with his choice ; but, for myself, all that is 
best in me would go to rust and ruin if I were wedded to 
a woman who could not thrill responsive to my higher 
moments, and inspire them too. Here I must have 
recognition, sympathy, help from my wife. My whole 
nature craves it, and I cannot do it violence.” 

“ I don’t see why Margaret Wheatley couldn’t be this 
to you as well as any other woman. I’m sure she’s 
brilliant, and very kind-hearted, and all that,” ventured 
Gertrude. 

“ Ah, but she isn’t what I mean. You compel me to 
say it again. The day that I married Margaret Wheat- 
ley would be the ruin of me. Don’t all of you stare at 
me as though I were a brute. I’m not good enough to 
be her husband. It’s hard enough for me to resist the 
devil in all the shapes of ease, indolence, luxury, dissipa- 
tion, in which he daily comes to me. How could I do it 
married to a woman whose wealth would pamper and 
suffocate me with splendid luxury ? I am not low enough 


248 


THE HOLLANDS. 


to sit down in slavish enjoyment of my golden chains. 
I could never weld them into a ladder on which to climb 
heavenward. Then, in any wide sense, Margaret and I 
must always be strangers to each other. I have felt that 
in our most intimate moments. I enjoy her brightness, 
the sparkle of her talk and manner. She amuses and 
interests me ; but when I have said that I have done. 
She never knew the thrill of one noble, self-forgetful 
emotion ; all the awful griefs and struggles and sacrifices 
which any true soul, standing still to listen, hears echo- 
ing down through the dead years, are no more to her 
than the babbling of summer waves on the beach. 

11 Margaret is brilliant and charming, — none is more 
willing to grant it than I, — but her heart never throbbed 
■with one grateful emotion to the dead men and women 
whose lives and whose deaths have wrought the liberty 
and peace and happiness she enjoys to-day ; she never 
sympathized with any strong impulse for the help and 
elevation of her race. It was not in her from the begin- 
ning, and her education has made her unconsciously but 
supremely selfish. One can be that, and very sweet and 
amiable also. But talk to Margaret Wheatley of any 
lofty purpose in the world, of any living for God or hu- 
manity, and she would stare at me in blank amazement 
or pitying contempt for my romantic vagaries, and per- 
haps, in her exceeding good nature, propose, to amuse 
me — a splendid wine-supper — her father gives such. 
Faugh ! Or she would gossip prettily over her friends’ 
charming breakfasts, or her own costly laces from the 
last steamer; and I, with my self-contempt hanging a 


THE HOLLANDS. 


249 


millstone about my neck, should sink smothered in that 
close, enervating atmosphere, into an idle, useless wretch, 
of no more worth in the world than my lady’s lap-dog. 
How the thought would lash me at times that I had sold 
myself for money ; and my secret soul would say to me, 
‘ Coward and knave ! The man who grooms your 
horses, the clowm who builds your walls, is a king and a 
hero to you, — you ’sfto pride yourself on your breeding, 
your culture, your high ideals of life, your kid-glove 
philanthropy ! 9 

11 1 see myself now, squandering my father-in-law’s 
money in costly cigars, driving fine horses, striving to 
drown my self-loathing in an affected dilettanteism, crit- 
icising the last fine picture or new book. Better be a 
sailor in the forecastle, or with hard hands hewing tree3 
on the frontiers, at guard with wild beasts and savages ; 
better be anything that is honest, under God’s heaven, 
than that thing which I have named.” 

Again there was a little silence. When Duke’s in- 
most soul stirred and spoke to his family, there was a 
solid sense, a sledge-hammer ring of eternal truth, in 
what he said. 

Across the silence slipped a little silvery, indignant 
laugh of Edith’s. “If I really believed all this fine 
rhapsody of yours was true, Duke Walbridge, and that 
a little money, more or less, could work such havoc with 
your whole nature, I should think my brother was an 
awfully feeble specimen of his sex. Aren’t you ashamed 
to slander yourself so? ” 

“ Aren’t you ashamed, Edith, to so misrepresent my 


250 


THE HOLLANDS. 


meaning? You know it was not the fortune, but the 
coming by it wrongly, which would be the ruin of me, 
just as it would had I stolen it.” 

“ I think,” said Gertrude, with a twinkle of fun in 
her eyes, “ we may quote to Duke what Festus said to 
Paul. ‘ Much learning, Duke, doth make thee mad.’ ” 
There was a shout of laughter from the younger girls, 
neither the mother nor eldest siste^joining in it. 

“I think,” continued the latter, with much asperity, 
“he must have got into that state which some poet de- 
scribes : — 

“ 1 When life is half moonshine and half Mary Jane/ 


“No man who was not hopelessly moon-struck would 
ever dream of drawing such an impossible Dulcinea as a 
real live flesh-and-blood woman. If you labor under 
the illusion, Duke, that you have really beheld your 
‘ Mary Jane,’ do, for goodness’ sake, enlighten us where 
in earth, air, or sea, you chanced upon the paragon? ” 

“ I do think you are too bad, Edith, to make fun of 
your brother in that way,” exclaimed Eva, who began to 
feel that it was time somebody ranged themselves on 
Duke’s side, although it must be owned that young man 
had never yet proved himself unequal to his own defence 
against all the forces of ridicule and satire which his 
family occasionally brought to bear upon him. “I’m 
sure what he said sounded real grand, and I couldn’t 
help thinking the woman he described was a little 
like — ” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


251 


Eva stopped here, she could not tell why; it was 
hardly like the impulsive little puss ; but she stopped. 
Everybody was breathless. Duke turned upon her, and 
his eyes seemed to command her. 

“ Like whom, Eva? ” he said, slowly and gravely. 

“Like Jessamine Holland,” she answered. 

Something came into his face ; was it strength, light, 
joy ? It was all these together. 

“Yes , 55 he answered, in a low, solemn, yet exultant 
tone, as though it was a grand truth whose knowledge 
came from some inmost depth of his soul, and it almost 
seemed as though one might hear the throb of his heart 
through the words, “I think it is a little like Jessa- 
mine Holland ! ” 

Then they all knew, — at least all but Eva. There 
was a silence through the room. At last Edith spoke, 
with more angry energy than ever. 

“Jessamine Holland ! It is no more like her than it 
is like the rest of us. Duke, you are a fool ! ” 

“ I do not dispute it,” he answered, in that icy tone, 
which always convinced them that it would be useless to 
attempt getting anything further out of him. In a few 
moments he went out. 

His mother, without saying a word, rose up and went 
to her room. When she got there — it was a very 
unusual thing in Mrs. Walbridge, but she actually sat 
down in her chair and burst into tears. 

In a few moments her two elder daughters joined her. 
They were a good deal shocked at the sight of their 
mother’s distress. 


252 


THE HOLLANDS. 


u It is just as we feared. Jessamine Holland has 
stood in our way all the time,” said Edith. 11 I wish 
she had never crossed our threshold.”' 

11 To think I’d set my heart so upon Margaret Wheat- 
ley being my boy’s wife. It seems as though the disap- 
pointment would break it. And to have that strange, 
penniless girl in her stead.” 

“ She never shall be,” said Edith, bringing down her 
clenched hand on the table. Then she rose up and 
paced the room, and her face was dark with passion, and 
something looked out of her eyes which one, seeing there, 
would ever after have feared and dreaded in Edith Wal- 
bridge. 

“ I’ll circumvent her by fair means or foul. Duke 
shall yet be Margaret Wheatley’s husband.” 

“ How in the world can that be, Edith ? ” asked her 
mother, catching at straws. “ You heard what Duke 
said. You saw his look too.” 

“I don’t care what he said, or what I saw. That 
strange girl has no business to come into our family and 
beguile our brother away from us, and frustrate all the 
happiness of two families, for we perfectly understand 
Mrs. Ashburn’s feelings ; and as for Margaret, Duke has 
only to ask her. It’s demanding too much to require us 
to give up everything for that Jessamine Holland, even 
if her brother did save Duke’s life.” 

“ I wish the thing had never darkened our doors,” 
added Gertrude, and her mother did not check her. 

“Eormypart,” continued Edith, “I’m going to re- 
lieve my mind. I frankly own that I hate and detest 


THE HOLLANDS. 


253 


the girl, and I think the circumstances fully justify me. 
J ust think how she is at the bottom of all the unhappi- 
ness in our family. There is no doubt Duke would to- 
day be betrothed to Margaret Wheatley, if it had not 
been for this little country girl, with her pretty face and 
strange, wheedling ways. She is in no wise fitted to be 
Duke’s wife, either by birth or circumstances, and we 
owe it to him and to ourselves to prevent a marriage of 
which we shall always be ashamed. I shall do my part, 
as I said, by fair means or foul.” 

Again, Mrs. Walbridge did not check this talk. The 
truth was, Jessamine Holland had taken, in the lady’s 
eyes, the shape of her keenest disappointment, of her 
bitterest enemy. Was it wrong, then, to treat her as 
such ? 


254 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“ Some quillet how to cheat the devil ! ” Edith 
Walbridge had been quoting Longaville’s words to her- 
self a good many times of late; always, too, with a 
little amused smile, but something hard and bitter under 
the smile. Once, even, she found herself writing the 
words on a card. They stared up at her there in a way 
she did not like. 

“ Nonsense L” she said, and threw the card into the 
fire, just as she would any small foul thing that had 
dropped in her way. 

That the devil must he at the bottom of Duke’s fall- 
ing in love with Jessamine Holland, his eldest sister was 
quite ready to believe. How could it be otherwise when 
there was a Margaret Wheatley to be had for the right 
kind of asking? Had not Mason Walbridge’ s daughters 
been brought up to regard wealth as the one chiefest 
good of life, no matter how energetically their mother 
might have denied this ? 

Edith had learned something more, — that it might 
not be easy always to combine wealth and the qualities 
most to one’s taste in a husband. She had a goodly 
list of offers in her own memory, which she could dis- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


255 


play on proper occasions. A goodly list as the world 
goes ; but among the nabobs were several old enough to 
be her father. Indispensable as money was, the making 
of it, or the marrying for it, was not always agreea- 
ble. 

Sometimes, to tell the honest truth, Edith was half 
repentant over her own engagement. Felix, with all 
those graces which made him the idol and herself the 
envy of so many women in her circle, must wait for the 
death of his rich bachelor uncle before he came into a 
fortune ample enough to gratify the ambition of his be- 
trothed. 

Should the golden river of Margaret Wheatley’s 
wealth flow into Duke’s channel, there was little doubt 
but some glittering streams might be diverted into the 
family pastures, where they would be very grateful. 

So Edith Walbridge was not wholly animated at this 
time by pure solicitude for her brother’s welfare. You 
will remember this, for it serves to explain the energy 
with which she laid her plot. 

It seemed to Duke Walbridge almost as though some 
fate stood in the way of his getting out to the Kents as 
the days slipped off after his return. Each one he prom- 
ised himself to go, and each one there was some pressing 
demand on his time by his mother or sisters, — of a kind, 
too, that he could not, without re^ ill-nature, decline to 
execute. 

One morning, however, he grew desperate, mounted 
his horse, and, without saying a word to anybody, rode 
over to the Kents. At first he had refrained from doing 


25G 


THE HOLLANDS. 


this, with a feeling that Miss Holland’s mornings would 
be closely occupied ; but the evenings had failed him, 
and his heart was the strong, passionate heart of a 
young man, and Jessamine Holland was the girl of its 
love. 

It was many months since Miss Holland had had a 
rfiorning to herself; but this one Mrs. Kent was so far 
indisposed that the lessons were intermitted. Jessamine 
drew a long breath over such an unusual luxury as a 
whole morning to do nothing. 

During these last days the weather had changed, the 
winds had blown from the north a stern menace of the 
winter that was coming, and in the evenings the frosts 
had walked silent as fire, and swift and strong as that 
also, among the leaves and grasses. 

A chill, too, had crept in-doors, and Mrs. Kent had 
said the day before, with a little shrug of her shoulders, 
when her husband talked of starting the furnace, 

Dick, let us fancy we are poor folks again, and have a 
real old-fashioned wood-fire on the hearth. I w~as brought 
up on that, you know.” 

Jessamine laughed that low, amused, happy laugh of 
hers, which seemed to have gathered into itself some 
tinkle out of silvery bells, some sweetness from the first 
robin's throat poured into the blue of a May morn- 
ing. % 

u I have dreamed that I was rich, by those wood-fires so 
very often ; richer than there is any probability I shall 
ever be, sitting by grander ones.” 

Once in a while Jessamine turned the comic side of 


THE HOLLANDS. 


257 


that old poverty-stricken life toward her. Every human 
life has one, and every healthful human being sees it also 
sometimes ; but oftenest the girl’s laughter shone through 
tears. 

Mrs. Kent’s wish, of course, was law with her husband, 
and the little household gathered around the fire in a 
merry mood, which softened as the fire grew and old 
memories crowded upon the three. 

It stirred his boyhood in the heart of the man whose 
years more than doubled those of the fair young women 
on either side of him. He told them stories of his child- 
hood, of his old mother, and of his hard battles with the 
world, and then went off on his travels around the globe, 
bringing close to their vision new horizons which lay out 
far beyond their narrow spheres, until the minutes 
slipped into hours, and the hours into midnight. 

The next morning, when Mr. Kent renewed his talk 
of starting the furnace, Jessamine put in a plea again 
for a wood-fire, and she had it all to herself in the little 
sitting-room. Not without a run out-doors first in the 
autumn air, that stirred one’s pulses with something 
better than champagne. It held now that cool, frosty 
chill which would melt in the broad noon sunshine. She 
had a race through the grounds to the pond which kept 
that great, solemn stretch of autumn sky in its wide 
depths; she even went into the little cockle-shell of a 
boat there, and rocked in it like a child for a while ; then 
she whirled herself out and up among the fruit-trees, 
gathering handfuls of ripe plums and pears, and, sweeping 
off to the flower-beds, plucked some sprays of verbena, 
22 


258 


THE HOLLANDS 


and twisted the scarlet flames in her hair. She was like 
a child let loose after six months of mornings which she 
could not call her own, if she excepted the Sundays. 
She had to work off in this way the first intoxication of 
freedom, and came in at last with a bloom of roses in her 
cheeks, her eyes full of a dark beryl sort of lustre, and 
something in her heart that was like the gladness of 
thrushes when they sing for the first time in May morn- 
ings. 

The great mass of glittering flame was alive on the 
hearth when she came in. Her whole face was alive, too, 
when she saw it. At a little ‘stand on one side were some 
poems, — Tennyson and Aurora Leigh. She had brought 
them both down last night, for the mellow sweetness of 
the ballads had been like wafted fragrance among he/ 
thoughts all day, broken into sometimes by the rumble 
of Mrs. Browning’s words, like the thunder of the sea 
on distant coasts. 

Jessamine took up one book and then the other, hut 
she could not settle herself to read. Her heart was pal- 
pitating with the out-door life, with its vast spaces, its 
freedom, its untamed strength. 

“ I wish I was a gypsy, at least for this one day,” she 
murmured, standing before the fire with that live, flushed 
face of hers, thinking what a bright, swift, strange thing 
fire was too. 

“ Miss Jessamine ! ” The voice was at her elbow, and 
she turned with a start and a little in-drawn cry. Was 
she an angel dropped right out of heaven, he half won- 
dered, as she stood there with the little hat she had for- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


259 


gotten to take off, its brown plume shading one side of 
her face. The heat was in her cheeks which she had 
brought from out-doors a moment before. 

Duke Walbridge had come in so softly that she had 
not heard him. They had not seen each other for several 
months, and they sat down by the fire in, let us suppose, 
a very brotherly, sisterly way. 

“How well you are looking, Miss Jessamine ! The 
teaching has agreed with you,” he said. 

The color came into her face under the strong, admir- 
ing gaze ; but then it would have done so had Ross been 
in Duke’s place. 

“Yes,” she said, a smile twinkling across her voice, 
as a little laugh did into her words, “I have begun to 
conclude that I have found my vocation, which is, you 
know, the first grand duty of life.” 

Duke Walbridge answered her in her own kind. It 
was wonderful how this young girl always struck the 
deep keys of his soul ; whether of mirth and gladness, 
or pity, indignation, courage, strength, all the gamut of 
his soul yielded to her touch. 

“You have lived farther than I, Miss Jessamine, for 
I have never discovered any especial vocation except for 
being lazy.” 

She shook her head. “ You mistake me there. One 
side of my nature is always craving a life of sensuous 
ease, a picture of mere color and grace, a lotus land, not 
only of the senses, but of the soul.” 

Again that look in his eyes, bringing a more vivid 
color to her cheeks. It made her a little uneasy, and 


260 


THE HOLLANDS . 


with that unconscious motion of hers she put up her 
hand to brush back her hair, and brushed instead the 
plumes of her hat. It was in her lap the next mo- 
ment. 

“ How ridiculous ! Have I been sitting here all this 
time with my hat on? ” The sprays of verbena, like a 
thick swarm of fire-flies, quivering in her lap also. “ The 
truth is, I was just in from a morning ramble, and brought 
some of the life back with me, and so forgot in-door pro- 
prieties.’ 7 

“I saw that, Miss Jessamine, in your eyes and face; 
but indeed the hat is so becoming that I could not choose 
but let it stay.” 

Any of his sister’s gallants would have said as much ; 
but Duke was not a flatterer. When he complimented 
man or woman he meant it, and that gave weight to his 
praise. 

The talk went after this to the summer. Duke was 
hardly enthusiastic over it. A good deal of it, he frank- 
ly admitted, was a bore ; but then, girls must have their 
gayeties, at least those who have a relish for such things, 
and he supposed all did. 

“ I think so,” replied Jessamine, a little doubtfully. 
“ As to the gayeties though, I hardly know, but the new 
sides of human life, and the scenery, and all those things,” 
— she drew one of those long breaths that often cut 
short her periods, but gave them a completeness which no 
words could. 

“You, Miss Jessamine, you?” His gaze seeming to 
interrogate something which lay beyond the flushing of 


THE HOLLANDS. 


261 


the face. u I was just thinking how much brighter, how 
much happier you looked than most of the young women 
who have flirted, and danced, and dissipated away the 
summer at the springs and the seashore ; yet to most of 
these, the life you have led here would have been an 
intolerable drudgery.’’ 

Her smile answered him, bright and clear as sunshine. 
c ‘ It has been work, and that, of course, is not always so 
pleasant as play, but it has not harmed me ; indeed, the 
world looked so pleasant in my eyes this morning, while 
I was out there among the leaves and flowers, that I 
could not help thinking what a blessed and glorious thing 
it was to live here at all. I was so unutterably happy. 
Only, only — ” 

11 Go on, Miss Jessamine.’’ 

“ I could not help thinking, sometimes, of those others 
who are lonely, wretched, wicked, in the world. Some- 
how, in my happiest moments — I mean those which come 
to me at times, and seem fairly to overflow w T ith their 
peace, their wealth and joy of life — I seem still to hear 
that undercurrent of misery from the heart of the world, 
as I have been told one may hear, through all the light 
and stillness of summer afternoons, the far-off murmur 
of the ocean upon the shore, not near enough to drown 
the other voices, but still winding into them with its dis- 
tant roar and restlessness ; and so I hear that vague un- 
dercurrent of restlessness, bewilderment, and pain haunt- 
ing my happiest hours.” 

How she spoke after his own heart ! Echoing the 
thoughts of his own soul ! Think of Margaret Wheatley’s 


262 


THE HOLLANDS. 


saying that ! Why, the world outside of her own orbit 
was much to the banker’s heiress as the happiness or 
misery of another planet ! 

The talk last night with his family was still quicken- 
ing in Duke’s soul. It had been almost like an avowal 
of love, and it seemed to have steadied and braced him. 
The sight of Jessamine’s face, the sound of her voice 
after all this silence, worked some magic in him. He 
had never thought of telling Jessamine Holland the 

o o 

story of his love, without his heart beating in his throat, 
and his breath coming short and hard. 

He had that faculty of idealism which is so peculiarly 
womanly, and yet without which no man is capable of 
the finest and highest love. This idealism wrought at 
times the bashfulness of a girl in the heart of the young 
man, and a large sense of unworthiness, which was for- 
ever tormenting the youth of Duke Walbridge. But 
some courage had entered into the man. For a moment, 
as he heard her speak, his love seemed to him a thing 
that he need not be ashamed of, — that he should not carry 
in secret like a woman’s, unwooed ; it was a thing that 
did him honor ; he was not ashamed of it before God. 
Why was he in the presence of this woman, before whom 
he could say, at least, his soul was honored in loving 
her? 

So, leaning forward, he took both her hands in his : 
“Ah, Jessamine, I have heard that undertone of which 
you speak ; that echo of the world's plaint and misery 
has rung in my ears ever since my boyhood. And yet 
— God forgive me — if my eyes have been opened that 


THE HOLLANDS. 


263 


they could see, -while I have done nothing to help to save 
my kind. That is the worst of it.” 

The soft, warm hands trembled a little in his, and then 
were quiet, for she was thinking of his words rather than 
of his act. 

“You say, ‘ God forgive me,’ for not helping the 
misery. I have to say it for a greater sin than that, Mr. 
Walbridge; for almost doubting his wisdom, his goodness, 
his existence even, — sitting up there in the great, white 
calm of his heavens, and letting this great, awful wail 
of humanity go up to him, and not stirring to help it, 
— he, with the courage and the power. Are you shocked 
with me? ” 

11 Shocked with you, my child,” — she seemed like one 
to him for the moment, — “when I have often asked 
myself, looking out on this great muddle of a world, 
w hether I was infidel or atheist, — feeling, as Robinson 
says, ‘the awful cracking of the ice of doubt under 
one’s feet.’ ” 

The tears came into her eyes, her smile shining across 
them too. “ That is it,” she said. “ But it is only at 
times I go down into these awful abysses of doubt, and 
the grass in the fields, the singing of a little bird, the 
sunshine on the hills, all come like the voices of angels, 
to refute my fears. I know that God lives, and so does 
his unspeakable Gift, the Christ he gave us.” 

“Yes,” Duke answered her; “in my truest moments 
I know that, and I know, too, what that Christ’s exam- 
ple was, which I do not follow.” 

“Ah! we can all say that,” — with her sweetly 


264 


THE HOLLANDS. 


serious face. “ I have often wondered what I was doing 
for God in his world/’ 

“ You ! you! Ah, Miss Jessamine, you are doing 
good that you do not know.” 

“ Where ? What? There is Ross, I know, but he is 
my brother, and I love him because I cannot help it, any 
more than I can help breathing ; but it is the great world 
around me ; there are so many hearts that need comfort- 
ing, so many feet that stumble, so many who need a 
hand even as feeble as mine is to help, or at least to 
point the right way. I cannot find my work, but I 
think one is sure to do that, if only one’s heart is thor- 
oughly in it. It must be that we are all here to do 
some good in God’s world.” 

“ I think so.” Then his glance went over and fell 
upon Aurora Leigh on the table. “ After all, how much 
grander Romney Leigh’s failure was than most men’s 
success, even if it is the mighty success of dollars and 
cents ! We sneer at the Israelites, Miss Jessamine, but 
our own age, with all its science, its culture, and its 
material advancement, is still at the old work in the wil- 
derness, building golden calves, and worshipping them.” 

“Yes, my range is narrow, but it commands horizon 
enough to see that ; yet, if there is great danger in hav- 
ing too much money, there is, it seems to me, a greater 
in having too little. I used to think money was the one 
good in life, when that poverty bore down so awfully 
upon my youth ; and, 0 Mr. Walbridge, money is a good 
thing, — a very few thousands would bring back Ross to 


THE HOLLANDS . 


265 


“A most necessary thing. The being born with a 
silver spoon in my mouth may work my deadly ruin ; but 
I will never drift into that silly twaddle about poverty’s 
allowing, in fact, the only Arcadian innocence and hap- 
piness. A man with a luxurious dinner before him may 
talk very prettily and very absurdly about hunger. Let 
him one day face the hard, grim fact, not breaking his 
fast with bread and butter. The life is better than meat, 
and the body than raiment ; but He who said this did not 
mean that it was good to go cold or starving.” 

This was strange talk between a young man and 
woman. Just imagine the Walbridge girls’ lovers talk- 
ing like this ! They expected queer things of that 
“ smart, odd Duke,” but I think, if they could have heard 
him this morning, they would have half doubted whether 
he had not gone “ clean daft.” 

And to think that all the graces, and airs, and charms 
with which men have been won from time immemorial, 
should go for nothing with Duke, while he should actu- 
ally fall in love with a young woman discussing themes 
which would be admirable coming from a parson in the 
pulpit on a Sunday ; but the idea of two rational human 
beings courting in that way ! 

“You say,” continued Jessamine, “that the silver 
spoon may work your deadly ruin, Mr. Walbridge. 
Did you mean so much as that? ” 

“ Yes, just so much. Look now at the lazy, worthless 
life I’ve been leading this summer, for instance, dancing 
attendance on the girls from one fashionable resort to 
another, lounging through the days in idleness and lux- 
23 


266 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ury, a bootless search after excitement and pleasure. I 
knew all the time that it was totally unworthy of a man 
and a man’s life, this miserable frittering away of ex- 
istence — growing cynical and bitter over the ambitions 
of people as silly and contemptible as your own. If I 
were the son of a poor man, how different it would all 
have been ! I should at least have earned my honest 
bread by the sweat of my brow, instead of having other 
hands butter it on both sides for me, not certain whether 
my self-contempt had salt enough in it to keep me from 
spoiling. Do you think it has, Miss Jessamine? ” 

He had loosened her hands long ago, but he turned 
now and faced her with a kind of hungry eagerness work- 
ing in his mouth and eyes, which told to a close observer 
that her answer was one of life or death to him. 

J essamine looked up, and something which she did not 
know rose in her eyes. Something of that look with 
which tender women, whom we read of, have girded men 
for the battle, or followed them to the scaffold. “ Yes,” 
she said, “I think there is salt enough to save you. 
I would trust you ! ” 

Her voice was steady, her sweet, bright smile moved 
like a light held over them across her words. The sight 
shook the young man to his soul. A great longing to 
tell her all that had been in his heart for the last months 
came upon him — the words clamored at his throat — ■ 
his pulse flew at his wrist like a frightened bird’s ; he 
rose up ; for the first time in his life his hand dropped 
on her hair, a soft, tender, caressing motion. u Jessa- 
mine ! Jessamine ! ” He could not get any farther, his 


THE HOLLANDS. 


267 


throat was parched, the clamoring words choked on his 
dry lips. 

“ Yes,” said Jessamine. 

He did not know it, but Duke Walbridge’s heart had 
put itself into that cry; its hunger, its hope, its fear. 
J essamine heard it. She was a woman ; she knew what 
it meant. Her heart leaped a moment, and then stead- 
ied itself. What was there to shake her whole being like 
this silent storm? Duke Walbridge would never say 
. anything to her, Jessamine Holland, that she should be 
ashamed or afraid to hear. Her cheeks were brighter 
than the crimson of the fire ; but her voice held its tones, 
— those tones so full of sweetness, feeling and force un- 
derlying all the sweetness. 

“Yes, Mr. Walbridge:” 

The next moment which died into silence strained his 
soul cruelly. It seems to me that such a moment always 
must a man like Duke Walbridge. But when he spoke 
his voice, too, was steady, although one felt the passion- 
ate power which burned under the low words. 

He was standing by her chair, leaning over it ; she 
could hardly tell whether there were touches of his hand 
in her hair, but she felt his fingers close to it ; their 
faces were turned away so that neither could see the 
other. 

“ Miss Jessamine, I have a question to ask you, which 
I have never asked to any woman ; it is one which con- 
cerns all our future, — a question the most vital to both 
of us. If I shall ask it, whichever way you answer, will 
you forgive me ? ” 


268 


THE HOLLANDS. 


She knew then what was coming. It was strange, she 
remembered it afterward, how with all her fluttering, 
most maidenly, most natural, with her cheeks hot, as 
though the flames were close upon them, and her breath 
swift as <*ne that leaps away from pursuers, a great cen- 
tral peace and calm entered into her soul. 

“ I promise you.” 

His hand — no — it was not that, it was his lips drop- 
ping on her hair a kiss, light and soft as the dropping of 
dews through starry nights. 

“ You have given me the courage to ask the question 
now,” he said; but he did not. She was glad, and for 
him it seemed better to wait a little until the heat had 
gone out of his brain and heart, and he could speak or 
write calmly ; and then, too, those words of hers had set 
him suddenly in a great heaven of hope. He drew his 
breath with an ecstasy whose joy was almost pain; 
shining horizons were all around him ; he was a young 
man, and the maiden who sat there was the love of his 
youth. 

Then they turned, as by some mutual instinct, and 
looked in each other’s faces, these two, so singularly 
fashioned by birthright of soul for comprehension, for 
sympathy, for entering into each other s solemnest moods, 
whether of grief or gladness, into all thought, aspiration, 
emotion, —these two, standing still in the broad, luminous 
country of their youth, — these two, to whom love would 
be something blessed, holy, immortal ; which, alas ! it is 
to so few men and women ! 

They gazed a moment, as though each was a new mir- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


269 


acle to the other. Each face was stirred and luminous. 
For an instant Duke Walbridge felt that the right moment 
to speak had come now. He opened his lips, but the 
weight of joy at his heart pressed down the words and 
held them back. 

If he had yielded, and spoken then, what might not 
have been saved to both of them ! But he went away, 
with some instinct to be alone with his own soul and God 
just then, taking his leave of Jessamine in the old, 
friendly fashion, clasping her hand and holding it a mo- 
ment, and adding over it what the tones made a prayer, 
“ God bless you ! ” 

She was alone then, once more, by the fire ; but what 
a changed world it had grown since she sat there in just 
that way ! Yet it was a world hardly an hour older. 
Thoughts of her childhood, of her parents, of Ross, of 
Hannah Bray, swayed over her, and then everything else 
was swallowed up in the conviction that she and Duke 
Walbridge loved each other. What did that mean? It 
meant being one indieart and soul — it meant dwelling 
together — her breath gasping under the weight of her 
thoughts. She remembered, too, Duke’s father and 
mother, and sisters, with some tenderness quickening in 
her soul. Would they be glad or sorry over the son and 
brother’s choice ? 

She knew — this little Jessamine — the things they 
valued chiefest, — the gold and the place. She could 
bring them no marriage dowry; but she knew how they 
loved Duke, and she hoped for his sake they would take 
her into the family heart. 


2T0 


THE HOLLANDS. 


At last, all these long, swift thoughts drowned them- 
selves in slow, happy tears, sliding up from the great joy 
of her heart into her eyes, and wetting her cheeks ; and 
the fire grew low, humming on the hearth, and gathered 
itself slowly up into gray ashes, and the broad noon 
sunshine warmed the room. How happy she was, sitting 
there all alone ! She would never forget that hour. It 
would hold its light aloft over all her future life, — over 
all the cares and griefs that waited below. 

What would Ross say, she wondered, her thoughts 
slipping off again, easily as tides slip up bare reaches of 
sandy coast, and take hold upon the rocks beyond. 
Would he be willing to give her, his little Jessamine, 
even to his dearest friend ? or would he only feel that he 
had been rifled of the best treasure of his life ; of her who 
had said so often, “I shall never love anybody as I 
love you, Ross ” ? 

She did not love him less now ; her heart had only 
widened to take in that other. Was she good enough, 
though, for this great gift God had suddenly dropped into 
her life ? All that only He and J essamine knew of her 
faults and weaknesses rose up before her, and humbled 
her with an awful sense of ill-desert. Let Him be witness 
to her resolve how well she would love, how wisely sho 
would live with His help ; the slow slipping of tears upon 
her cheeks, from great deeps of her soul, broken up, and 
the fire dropping as slowly out of its bright, swift, strong 
life into dull, gray ashes, just as our own lives drop with 
all their bright, swift strength into the dark silences of 


THE HOLLANDS. 


271 


the grave, — only one part of our lives, “ the meat and 
the raiment.’ ’ 

At last the clock struck noon. The girl started up at 
the strokes. She had not heard the low, silvery chimes 
until now, although they had floated across the room for 
several hours. 

As she passed Mrs. Kent’s room on the way to her 
own, the lady, hearing the footfalls, called her in. The 
young matron sat there in her pink dressing-gown, a 
picture of pretty, semi-invalidism. 

“Isn’t it delightful to have a holiday once in six 
months, Miss J essamine ? But what have you been 
doing with it? ” she asked. 

“ Not much of anything, I believe,” replied J essamine, 
thinking, after all, that this had been the most wonderful 
day of her life, a miracle among all its commonplace 
kin. 

“ Have we had callers? I thought I heard a gentle- 
man’s step in the hall.” 

“Yes. Mr. Walbridge was here for some time.” 

It was nothing surprising. Duke was in the habit of 
coming to the Kent’s, and of course he would call soon 
after his return home. But it may be that Jessamine 
paused a moment before she answered, or that some con- 
sciousness throbbed into her tones. Mrs. Kent probably 
could not herself tell why she turned and looked at her 
friend. But she did, and saw something in Jessamine’s 
face which she would also have found it hard to name. 
But her instincts were keen, and, though she said nothing, 
ft suspicion of the truth entered her mind. 


272 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Notwithstanding her weakness in Greek, which had 
been so unfortunately displayed at one time, Mrs. Kent 
had a native delicacy which prevented any utterance of 
her thoughts on this matter, even in a jest. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


273 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

That night Duke Walbridge wrote a letter to Jessa- 
mine Holland. His whole soul throbbed in every word, 
for he was too proud to hold anything back ; not a long 
letter, but its passion of tenderness, its hope, its humility, 
were of the sort which weld themselves into brief sen- 
tences, quick with life. Whatever her answer would be, 
Duke Walbridge could depend on the soul of the woman 
to whom his soul was speaking. He did not woo her with 
any soft phrases, with any lover’s fine talk and flatteries ; 
he would not so wrong her ; he did not even woo her with 
many promises ; far less did he sue abjectly for what one 
felt was more to him than life. He wanted no gift out of 
her pity ; if there was no voice in her own heart to plead for 
him more eloquently than his words, then Duke Walbridge 
must put away the gift, even though that gift were the 
hand of J essamine Holland. 

Yet he left her in no doubt what she could be to him ; 
how his soul needed her, as souls of all men who can love 
highest and truest need the soul of some other woman, 
after their own kind, as Hamlet needed Ophelia, as Rom- 
ney Leigh needed Aurora, or as men who have no high 
gifts nor great place in the world need women whose 


274 


THE HOLLANDS. 


purity and tenderness shall inspire and ennoble whatever 
of best is in them. 

Yet he did not spare himself. Duke Walbridge’s 
•worst enemy would hardly have dealt so harshly with his 
faults and weaknesses as he did, as only he would do it, 
too, to God and the woman that he loved, — there being 
this power in the man, his better self could always look 
down with a strong scorn on his lover, few, alas ! having 
the clear vision of Duke Walbridge. 

So he asked her if, knowing all this, his pitiable sin 
and weakness, she could come to his need and help him, 
not for pity’s sake, but for love’s. If she could, or could 
not, let her send some sign, either by words or silence, 
such as suited her best. 

He laid the letter away, when it was finished, in hi3 
writing-cabinet, locking that, and tossing the key into a 
small tray of carved woods, which he had picked up in 
Switzerland, and then a new calm entered his soul, 
stilling all its hot fever of doubt and disquiet. It was too 
late to send the letter that day, he would wait until the 
morrow. 

Meanwhile, vigilant eyes kept watch on him. Edith 
Walbridge had managed most adroitly to keep Duke from 
visiting the Kents for nearly a week after their return 
home. But the delay must have an end, and even Edith, 
with all her skill, could not have succeeded without the 
co-operation of her mother and other sisters. 

He had, of course, no suspicion of the influences at 
work to keep him from Jessamine Holland. But he 
would make his own opportunity to see her. Trust Duke 


THE HOLLANDS, 


275 


Walbridge for accomplishing that on which he had set 
his heart. 

Edith, narrowly watching, saw that he was absent at 
table ; if he jested with the girls, his heart was not in it. 
She knew her brother. 

Where had Duke been that morning? If she could 
only keep guard over him all the time ! 

Suddenly Eva spoke: “ We have none of us called 
upon Miss Holland since our return. It is quite too bad. 
Duke, will you drive Kate and me out to the Kents after 
dinner ? ” 

“I saw Miss Holland this morning,” replied Duke. 

“ Oh, you did,” thought Edith. “I suspected as 
much from your manner, young man.” 

Other people at the table had their thoughts too, but 
each one kept silent. 

“ Why didn’t you let us know you were going, so that 
we might send Miss Holland some messages?” said 
Kate, who was in the family secret, and quite provoked 
that her brother had stolen this march upon them. 

“ I never thought of that, Kate ; but you will drive out 
soon and take them yourself.” < 

“ Did she have no messages for us? ” asked Mrs. Wal- 
bridge, who would have found it a slight relief to her feel- 
ings to convict Miss Holland of a want of courtesy, in 
default of anything stronger to bring against her. 

“She made very kind inquiries after you all; but she 
had learned of our return two days ago, and naturally 
waited to hear from some of us.” 

To all this no objection could be urged. Edith sue- 


276 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ceeded in ascertaining that her brother had not seen Mrs. 
Kent. 

“ Duke and Jessamine must have had a long tete-a-tete 
together, then. What had passed between them ? ” 
She scrutinized him more narrowly than ever. 

After dinner he went off to his chair with a book ; but 
he did not read it. He only sat there silent and 
absorbed. 

“ Why didn’t you come downstairs when we sent for 
you to see the Murrays — the first time they have called 
since our return? ” asked Gertrude. 

“Because” — a moment’s pause, but subterfuge was 
not in Duke’s line — “I had some writing to do, and 
wished to finish it.” 

Edith was wide awake. What writing had Duke to 
do important enough to keep him upstairs a couple of 
hours after his return from a call on Jessamine Holland? 
She was alive now to every straw that blew in her way. 

After a while Duke rose up and went out. Edith 
went also to the door and listened, she hardly could have 
told why, but she heard her brother inquire of the 
chambermaid whether John, the coachman, had come in. 

Her affirmative sent him down into the kitchen. Edith 
had never constituted herself her brother’s keeper, but 
now her suspicions were all alert. 

After a short parley with the coachman, she heard her 
brother go out, and slipped downstairs. 

“ John, what was it that Mr. Duke wanted of you just 
now ? ” demanded Edith Walbridge in her imperious 
■way, her eyes holding the man’s face. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


277 


He shuffled uneasily, put one heavy foot before the other, 
shrugged his broad shoulders, and at last stammered out, 
“I — he said I was to say nothing about it.” 

J ohn was fond of his young master, and wished to be 
loyal to him. 

“ No matter what he said, John; he wanted you to 
do some private errand for him to-morrow.” 

It was not an easy thing to resist Edith Walbridge, 
even had keener wit and stronger will than John the 
coachman’s entered the lists against her. 

“As you knew it beforehand, it isn’t betrayin’ Mr. 
Duke to say that was what he wanted.” 

“ And the private errand was to go out to the Kents ? ” 

“You seem to know all about it, Miss Edith.” 

John was no little perplexed in his turn, and uncom- 
fortable, too, betwixt his loyalty to Duke and his awe of 
the imperious young woman. 

Edith herself was a little startled at this confirmation 
of her worst fears. “John,” she continued, with the tone 
and air of a lawyer who is bent on frightening a reluct- 
ant witness into disclosing whatever facts may be in his 
possession, “ did Duke tell you what your errand was to 
be at the Kents ? ” 

John drew a long breath of relief. “No, on my 
honor, Miss Edith, he never breathed a word there. Ho 
only said I was to ride out for him the first thing in the 
morning. I should know what the errand was when the 
time came.” 

Edith was satisfied that she had forced out of bungling, 
good-natured J ohn, — who was much more at home man- 


278 


THE HOLLANDS. 


aging a vicious horse, than he was with an intriguing 
woman, — all that he had to tell. 

With a peremptory charge not to repeat a syllable of 
her questions to her brother, Edith went upstairs slowly. 
She paused a moment, doubtfully, at the drawing-room 
door, and listened to the merry hum inside, and then, her 
face settling into something hard and dark, she brought 
down her clenched hand on the knob. “I shall ask no- 
body’s advice at this crisis. I shall act at once. The 
time is short now ; ” and she went on with her dark, res- 
olute face, past her own room to her brother’s. 

The door here was always unlocked. The gas through 
the ground glass made a light like that of misty moon- 
shine through the room. Edith went straight to the 
cabinet, found the key lying loose in the tray. Duke 
Walbridge would as soon thought of hiding his purse 
from his mother and sisters, lest they should pilfer its 
contents, as to dream of their using the key to his cabinet 
during his absence. 

Edith’s heart beat fast. She had never felt like a 
thief before in her life. She had to say to her conscience, 
u I am compelled to do it ; Duke has no right to sacri- 
fice his whole family to that miserable girl.” 

Then, with steady fingers, she set the key in the lock, 
and turned it. She opened the drawer, and in a few 
moments’ search drew out the letter, laid carefully away 
in the box, in one corner, the letter not yet so much as 
folded. 

Edith brightened the light, and, standing there, she 
went over all that Duke had written to Jessamine Hoi- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


279 


land, line by line, word by word ; her breath coming 
faster, her face growing whiter all the time. When she 
was done, she sat dovn in a chair. “It is worse than I 
thought/’ she said. “ He loves her like that — like 
that ! ” the words coming slowly, as though each one 
hung a weight upon her lips. 

Then she sat silent. No need to strain her ear for a 
footstep. Duke’s tread along the hall always rung loud 
and swift, and he would not be likely to return soon. 

She saw the stars holy and bright, and afar off. 
What wonder her brother had carried his burdened 
thoughts and heart out to their great silence and sym- 
pathy ! Something unsteady, something like trouble 
or relenting, came into Edith’s face. Such a letter 
— the story of such a love, wrought its magic on 
her for a while. She had had lovers and offers, plenty 
of them. She thought of that now, but not with any 
swell of vanity or exultation ; she only thought that no 
one of those had ever wooed her, had ever loved her as 
her brother had wooed and loved this Jessamine Holland, 
and a pang of remorse smote the girl, as she thought of 
the two lives she would deliberately wreck, if she reached 
out her hands between them. 

She looked at them for a moment, lying by the letter 
in her lap. “ White, unclean hands,” they seemed to her 
just then, with all their fairness! “It is a miserable 
work,” she said. “Iam half minded to leave them alone, 
and let Duke ‘gang his ain gate/ even if that does lead 
away from Margaret Wheatley.” 

I want you to remember, in all that happened after- 


280 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ward, that Edith Walbridge said this once — said it alone, 
and honestly to her own soul. 

But the name of Margaret Wheatley seemed a spell 
which supplanted the hold that Duke’s letter had briefly 
taken of her feelings. 

The old instincts, the old reasoning, swayed back on 
Edith Walbridge. She remembered the wealth, position, 
not only for himself, but for his family, which were all 
at stake at this moment. 

What were the dreams of a romantic young man in 
comparison ? 

Duke would get over his love, and be happier in the 
end, and just a million times better off with Margaret 
Wheatley than he would with Jessamine Holland. He 
was an only son and brother. Surely he owed something 
to his mother and sisters. 

The girl’s face grew harder and darker. u I have said 
that Duke never should marry this Jessamine Holland, ” 
she muttered to herself, 11 and I am not going to back down 
now.” 

Then she rose up and went out, doubting whether she 
had better admit any of her sisters to her secret, and con- 
cluding that now, when the matter had grown so serious, 
she would confide the whole only to her mother. 

A little sign brought Mrs. Walbridge up to her daugh- 
ter’s room within the next quarter of an hour. 

The lady listened in silence to all that Edith related, 
for the girl made a clean breast of the method by which 
she had obtained Duke’s secret, and concluded by reading 
his letter to Jessamine Holland. 


THE HOLLANDS . 


281 


“ What do you think of all that, mamma? ” 

“ Think, Edith ! There is no help for it ! The boy 
is lost ! My boy, on whom I had set my pride, my hopes ! 
Would to God she had never entered our house ! I am a 
wretched woman ! ” 

For once Mrs. Walbridge brqjse through all her habits 
of well-bred restraint, and was honestly dramatic. The 
blow went deep ; yet she had a mother’s heart, and for 
the time, at least, she felt that a love like Duke’s must 
not be sacrificed to, any ambitions. If she pitied herself, 
she pitied her boy also. 

Edith’s voice recalled her ; the younger woman calmest 
and clearest now. 

“ There is no use sitting still and wringing our hands, 
mamma. What we do must be done without delay.” 

“ There is nothing to do,” answered the mother, melting 
down into tears. “ Before such a letter as that, one is 
utterly helpless. The thing is done, Edith.” 

“No, it isn’t done while I have any sense left to plan 
and circumvent,” answered the daughter, grimly reso- 
lute. 

“Why, Edith, my child, what will you do? Under 
any other circumstances, I should say you have already 
gone too far.” 

“ Mother, I have said that Duke Walbridge should never 
marry Jessamine Holland. I meant it then — I mean it 
now;” her voice slow and steady, like one who carries a 
fixed purpose along it. 

“ What can you do, Edith ? ” again inquired the mother. 
“ There is that letter.” 


282 


THE HOLLANDS. 


11 1 do not mean that Jessamine Holland shall ever see 
this letter,” answered still and steadily, with weights 
of will hanging upon each word, the voice of Edith 
Walbridge. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


288 


CHAPTER XIX. 

In the portrait which I have endeavored to draw of 
Mrs. Walbridge, that lady would be the last to recognize 
her own lineaments. The faintest suggestion that she 
formed the prototype of this picture would amaze and 
shock her ; she would honestly regard herself as the moat 
injured and maligned of women; nay, more, she would 
promptly and indignantly denounce the course which, in 
real life, and under the pressure of strong temptation, she 
sanctioned, if she did not actively promote. 

Ah ! if one only had, as Mrs. Stowe says, “ a relay of 
bodies,” and could step from one into another, and contem- 
plate quietly one’s own part in this great, swift drama of 
human life, how much wiser and soberer we should all 
grow, with the new perspective and the wider reach of 
vision ! But Mrs. Walbridge had wrought herself up into 
a state of mind which could only see things from one 
stand-point, and that one, herself, a disappointed, dis- 
tressed, outraged mother ; her only son about to sacrifice 
himself, the victim of an artful, designing girl, who had 
abused all the claims which her brother's deed gave her 
on the family gratitude, by ingratiating herself into the 
young man’s affections, thereby blighting the hopes of two 


284 


THE HOLLANDS. 


households, and breaking the heart of the girl who had 
loved him from her childhood, and who alone had the right 
to become his wife. Thus Mrs. Walbridge reasoned, — 
in a rather dramatic way, it must be admitted, for a 
woman of her repose and dignity; but, then, the finest 
and calmest of us, even to Lady Clara Yere de Vere her- 
self, can be dramatic under sufficient pressure. So, when 
Edith avowed strongly her determination of never letting 
Jessamine Holland see that letter of Duke’s, the mother 
looked at her daughter, startled and amazed ; but no words 
of indignant horror shamed the girl into silence before her 
deed, set her face to face with its sin and guilt. 

*“ Edith, do you know what you are saying, or are you 
going distraught with all this misery ? J ’ stammered the 
mother. 

“No. Look at me, and see, mamma. I was never 
cooler in my life ; and there is need enough of it, — one 
wants steady brain and calm nerves now ; but, I say it 
again, you shall never see this letter, Jessamine 
Holland! ” 

There was no doubt Edith Walbridge knew what she 
was doing, though her eyes blazed out as she threw the 
letter on the floor, and set her foot on it, sure that the 
small, delicate shoe would leave no trace of itself on the 
paper. Had it been Jessamine Holland’s neck, at that 
moment, it seemed to her she could have stamped with a 
better will. 

“ Jessamine Holland not see the letter ! ” repeated her 
mother, still staring at her daughter. 

“I have said so,” continued Edith; “and I am not 


THE HOLLANDS. 


285 


given to rash promises. I have rather expected the con- 
summation would take this form, and I have prepared 
myself to meet it— though there was no telling — it 
might have been some other, and then I must have laid 
my train differently. On the whole, I am glad that it is 
a letter. Get that in one’s hand, and one is master of 
the situation; and once destroyed, the thing tells no tales. 
If Duke had spoken to her, it would have been much more 
difficult to deal with the thing, though even then I would 
not have despaired.” 

She had lifted the letter now, and was carefully smooth- 
ing a wrinkle in it, talking, it seemed, less to her mother 
than to herself. 

Mrs. Walbridge felt an involuntary shiver all over her. 
She began to see darkly into this talk of her daughter, 
and she felt a sensation much as though she were standing 
on the brink of some awful precipice, and a chill wind 
came out of the darkness, and blew upon her. She drew 
close to her daughter ; her lips were white, as she laid 
her hand on the girl’s arm and whispered, “ Edith, 
tell your mother what this is you intend to do.” 

Even Edith glanced around the room a little nervous- 
ly, as though, as absurd as the idea was, she half-feared 
there might be some one listening in the corners. Then 
she drew nearer to her mother, and in a low undertone, 
yet in a strong, rapid, excited way, went over the plan 
which she had been maturing for several days. “ The 
first thing was to make certain that that letter should 
never fall into Jessamine Holland’s hands.” 

“But, Edith,” interrupted her mother, in a voice 


286 


THE HOLLANDS. 


whose rapid impatience did not seem like the calm, smooth 
voice of Mrs. Walbridge, “ how are you going to prevent 
this ? Duke will certainly find out the — ” There was a 
pause ; the lady was not fond of strong, unflinching words, 
which set a fact right before one, stripped of all its guises. 
“What you have done — and you know your brother! 
I shudder to think of the consequences of his learning 
that his mother or his sisters have deceived him.” 

“ No, Duke won’t find it out either,” exclaimed Edith, 
with great energy. “Do you think I shall play the 
desperate game, into which I am forced, so poorly?” 

“ 0 Edith, it is a miserable thing, looked at from 
any side. I feel quite powerless over its magnitude. I 
do not know what to advise — what to do.” 

“Well,” continued Edith, resolutely, “it is no time 
now to sit still and fold our hands, and deplore the state 
of affairs. This letter once in Jessamine Holland’s 
hands, the thing is done. She will be Duke’s betrothed 
wife within twenty-four hours if we do not interfere. 
You see that, mamma? ” 

“Yes, I see that only too clearly,” sighed the moth- 
er. 

“I’ve made up my mind,” continued Edith, “ that my 
brother shall not sacrifice himself and his family, and 
the woman who, I have not a doubt, really loves him, 
without my making an effort to save him. The case is 
desperate, and it won’t do to Be squeamish about the 
means.” 

Silence on the mother's part made assent to the daugh- 
ter’s speech. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


287 


“ There is but one way open. Duke must suppose 
that Jessamine Holland has received his letter, while, 
instead of ever coming into that young lady’s hands, it 
must go into the flames.” 

Mrs. Walbridge started, and her face grew paler. 
u Edith, my child, do you know where you are tread- 
ing? ” 

“Precisely, mamma. But lam my brother’s sister, 
and intend to save him from the effects of his own 
folly.” 

That was “putting it” most plausibly, hiding all the 
ugly facts behind this flimsy gossamer of specious 
words. 

“But if the letter is destroyed, Duke will be certain 
to find it out. A man who loves a woman as we see he 
must, will not easily give her up.” 

“ I do not so read Duke, mamma. You know his 
Quixotic ideas about love ; and his pride and sensitiveness 
would both come to my aid in keeping him from pressing 
his suit. Once believing that Jessamine Holland has 
read this letter, any coolness or silence on her part will 
be interpreted as a rejection of his offer. Once, and 
only once, would Duke Walbridge lay bare his heart like 
this to the woman of his love. I know him. The 
stronger his affection, the less he would be likely to urge 
it, if he deemed her reluctant. He , suing and pleading 
for any woman’s love, without she could give it to him 
freely, absolutely, joyfully ! I think he would go first 
to the scaffold.” 

This reasoning evidently made a good deal of impres- 


288 


THE HOLLANDS. 


sion on the mother. She sat thoughtful for several 
moments before she added, “ But you forget that the 
two must be constantly meeting, and that Duke must 
certainly discover by Miss Holland’s manner that she 
has never received his letter? ” 

A dark smile came into the girl’s handsome face. 
“ Do you think me so short-sighted, mamma ? Edith 
Walbridge tie her bag in that loose fashion ! ” 

“Well, Edith, what next?” impatient and anxious. 

“ It is evident enough, from this letter, that whatever 
he may have given the girl reason to suspect, Duke has 
not really committed himself. He must have come 
mighty close to it this morning ; but, luckily, some good 
fate held him back. Now, my plan is to see Miss Hol- 
land before another sun sets, and acquaint her of Duke’s 
engagement with Margaret Wheatley. I shall find some 
way of bringing it in naturally and easily, so she will 
suspect nothing. And I know my young woman also ; 
and, although I do most cordially hate her, I am very 
certain she, too, has some high notions of honor which 
will not permit her, whatever she may feel, to be any 
woman’s rival. Of course all such stuff is purely ab- 
surd ; still, I have no disposition to quarrel with it where 
it so well serves my turn. The next thing is to get the 
two out of each other’s way, so that there will be no 
chance for meetings and mutual explanations. Duke 
must be sent off without delay, mamma.” 

“ But that is more easily said than done, Edith. He 
will not be likely to go without some most excellent 
reason.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


289 


11 That is precisely what you and I must find, — a most 
‘excellent reason.’ If I can get the matter so far in 
train, I’ll trust to luck and my native wits to manage 
any further complications that may arise. I’m taking a 
precious deal of trouble for your sake, Duke Wal- 
bridge.” 

But if Edith could have looked all her motives in the 
face, she would have found that it was not so much for 
her brother’s sake as her own that she had been plotting 
and weaving through all these days and nights, until at 
last the snares were set, and the net made ready for its 
victims. 

Mrs. Walbridge stared at Edith with some new, half- 
terrified sense of her eldest daughter’s power. She her- 
self would never have been equal to projecting a scheme 
of this kind; and, to do her justice, she was above it 
morally. 

You may remember that I said long ago that Edith 
was her mother’s superior in force of character. She 
was to prove that now. 

With all her dignity and conventional judgment, Mrs. 
Walbridge was not a woman for strong emergencies, for 
startling and unusual conjunctions. In certain grooves, 
the lady could go through her part in the drama of life 
with a charming dignity and propriety, always equal to 
the occasion, always a pleasing and harmonious figure. 

But this human life of ours, which we have pieced out 
so carefully into some pretty mosaic, is suddenly broken 
up with some great earthquake shock, and the colors 
about which we have busied our souls, setting them after 
25 


290 


THE HOLLANDS. 


the right pattern, are all tumbled together, as when a 
wind swept over the block steeples and houses of our 
childhood. 

So Mrs. Walbridge found the walls tumbling about 
her ears. Her old grooves, her pretty conventional codes, 
would not serve her now ; and these had stood to her in 
place of the eternal God over her head. 

In her sudden dismay, looking on every side and find- 
ing no help, and having wrought herself up into a belief 
that her son was about to plunge headlong into a mar- 
riage. sacrificing himself and his family, almost any deed 
which would save him from the lifelong effects of his 
madness seemed justifiable in her eyes. Her partialities 
and prejudices confused and blinded her moral vision. 

After all, reader, can you and I say much more of 
ourselves ? If we can, we are a great deal better than 
most people whom I know, — very good people too. 

Yet Mrs. Walbridge’s vision saw quite far enough 
through the mists and murk for her own ease. Nervous 
and tearful, in a way strongly contrasted with her usual 
composure, she exclaimed, “ 0 Edith, it is a miser- 
able, miserable thing, from beginning to end — all this 
deception and intrigue. It terrifies me to think of it.” 

“It terrifies me more to look the other way, and see 
where we shall all he if something isn’t done to prevent 
it.” 

Poor little Jessamine Holland ! What terrible dismay 
and misery was that innocent young head going to bring 
into tlie Walbridge family ; and yet, if she had only had 
a fortune that equalled Margaret Wheatley’s, Duke 


THE HOLLANDS. 


291 


would have found no obstacles in the way of his 
choice. 

Mr. Walbridge’s entrance put a sudden end to the con- 
sultation of the ladies. He was a little out of humor 
that evening, having received letters from the West 
regarding some extensive mining speculations which he 
had made in the territories. The matter required his 
immediate presence there, and the prospect of a journey 
to Oregon was not agreeable to a man of his age and 
plethoric habits. 

Edith caught suddenly at this grumbling talk with, 
te Pa, why couldn’t you send Duke out now? He could 
at least look up your interests ; and, as you say, a jour- 
ney across half a continent is an awful undertaking at 
your time of life, — wretched hotels, and more wretched 
meals. Duke is young, and ought to enjoy the whole 
trip.” 

Her father grumbled something about, “ ’Twas all 
very well for women to talk, but Duke knew nothing 
about the business.” 

But Edith understood all her father’s weak points, and 
always slipped easily among his angularities. One of 
these days she would do just so with her husband, where 
a far higher principled women might have come up 
point-blank against his obstinacies, and thence ensued the 
old tale of domestic misery. 

So Edith proceeded to draw a picture of a journey to 
Oregon, holding up the discomforts by night and by day, 
in colors that made her father’s nerves twinge and hia 
bones ache. 


292 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Then Mrs. Walbridge brought up her forces to the res- 
cue by informing him that his son was on the eve of 
plunging himself into irretrievable ruin by marrying be- 
neath him, and that the only hope of saving the boy from 
wrecking himself was to get him away from the object of 
his unhappy devotion. 

Mr. Walbridge stared at this announcement, and 
hemmed several times. Jessamine Holland had always 
been rather a favorite with the elderly gentleman ; and 
when it came to a daughter-in-law he would have welcomed 
her with as stately a bow and as fatherly a kiss as he 
would the banker’s daughter. Fond as the man was of 
money, he had fancied that the easiest or surest method 
of possessing it was not by marrying a rich woman. But 
in a matter which concerned her son and daughters Mrs. 
Walbridge’s influence was all-powerful. It was enough 
that she, backed by Edith, disapproved of Duke’s choice, 
and declared herself the most miserable of women should 
he take to wife any other than Margaret Wheatley. 

Amidst the energetic talk of both women, the man did 
interpose once with, “ But, my dear, money is not the 
only desirable thing in a wife. You know I married you 
with very little.” 

“ That is an entirely different matter, Mr. Walbridge,” 
his wife answered, in a tone that implied the difference 
was patent to blind eyes. Mr. Walbridge took this for 
granted, although he could not exactly see the point. 

Perhaps the lady was not altogether unconscious of 
some inherent weakness in her remark ; for her next 
movement was a masterpiece of feminine strategy. “I 


THE HOLLANDS. 


293 


never expected, Mr. Walbridge, that at this day you would 
accuse me, the mother of your children, of not bringing 
you a fortune ! ” in a tone nicely balanced between injury 
and indignation. 

“ My dear, how absurd ! ” — a good deal flustered ; for 
Mr. and Mrs. Walbridge were not in that habit of petty 
bickering, which eats out the happiness of so many married 
people. “ You know I could not have intended anything 
of that sort.” 

“ Well, pa, I must admit it sounded very much as 
though you did,” interposed Edith, who felt it best to 
support her mother on every point to-night. 

Mr. Walbridge muttered something about ££ women al- 
ways finding bugbears where nobody else thought of them.” 
But if he was a little crosser, he was a little more plastic 
in their hands, and at any rate the women carried their 
point that Duke was, if possible, to be prevailed upon to 
undertake the journey to his father’s mining lands. 

Edith did not induct her father deeper into the plot. 
He had some notions of business honor that he might carry 
into other matters ; and as to surreptitiously possessing 
one’s self of a man’s love-letter, and destroying it, leaving 
him all the time to suppose that the woman of his seeking 
had received and scorned it, — even Mrs. Walbridge would 
find it difficult to convince her husband was doing just the 
right thing. 

He, at one time during this interview, avowed his deter- 
mination of ££ not setting about breaking up the thing in 
this underhand way. He would have a talk with Duke, 
and put the whole thing before him in a reasonable light.” 


294 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“ Pa,” said Edith, lifting up both her hands, “ if you 
are bent on this marriage, heart and soul, j^ou will have 
no difficulty in accomplishing it in that way.” 

“ Talk reasonably with a man who is in love, Mr. 
Walbridge ! I have always hitherto regarded you as a 
remarkably sensible man,” added his wife, in a tone of 
solemn despair. 

The man hemmed again two or three times, and at last 
went off to his paper, thinking this a matter which the 
women would best manage, and with a rather uncomfort- 
able consciousness of the lack of masculine tact in general. 

Edith returned to Duke’s chamber, and placed his letter 
back in the drawer, precisely where she had found it. 
“ There ! I think you will tell no tales now,” she said, 
locking the drawer. 

An hour later Duke returned, and read over the 
precious letter for the first time since he had written it. 

His heart beat high, and his face grew hot as a bashful 
girl’s over her first love-letter. It was Duke’s first too, 
and Edith was right, — “ it told no tales.” 

The next moment John had his orders very clearly 
from his young master. He was to take a letter over to 
the Kents, and deliver it into Miss Holland’s hands. He 
need not wait for an answer. 

Afterward, J ohn presented himself, in accordance with 
his promise, at Miss Edith’s door. He could not tell why, 
but he would certainly have given considerable to be away 
from it at that moment. The young lady was evidently 
expecting him. “Well, John, what did Duke say?” 
was her first salutation. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


295 


u I was to deliver the letter into Miss Holland’s hands 
and no others. I was not to wait for an answer.” 

I ‘Let me see the letter, will you, John? ” 

What could he do? Refuse the beautiful, imperious 
woman standing there ? It would take stouter moral fibre 
than the coachman’s to do that. Yet John was certainly 
conscious of another uncomfortable feeling, as the letter 
passed out of his hands. Edith was standing by her table, 
and for some reason the coachman’s eyes watched her 
keenly. 

She turned her back to him. There was a window 
opposite. It would seem that she wanted to see the ad- 
dress in a strong light ; but the watchful man somehow 
fancied that her hand went down on the table, and that she 
took up something lying there. Did she put something 
down also ? 

What business had J ohn with such questions ? Yet they 
came into his brain, — not a wondrously acute one either. 

She read the address out loud, but in a low tone, as 
though to herself, then turned toward J ohn, and held out 
the letter with a smile. 

II Here it is, John. I want you to accommodate me in 
a very small matter, and in the end you shall not be sorry 
for it. ” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” stammered John, with one of his best 
bows. That smile, half-coaxing, half-imperious, had cap- 
tivated far stronger wits than the humble serving-man’s. 

“I want you should, as Duke said, deliver this letter 
only into Miss Holland’s hands, saying simply it is one 
which you have brought from our house, and requires no 


296 


THE HOLLANDS. 


answer. You are to mention nobody’s name. You un- 
derstand me, John?” 

“ Yes, ma’am; only — only Mr. Duke’s orders were, I 
should say lie sent the letter.” 

“ Oh, well ! That will make no difference. You will 
obey his orders just the same.” 

“No, ma’am, if you say it doesn’t,” — answering her 
first clause. 

“ Well, then, it is settled. And further, John, you are 
never to repeat to Duke, or anybody else, that I have 
spoken to you regarding this letter. You understand that 
clearly? ” And despite its softness a little menace slipped 
into her tones. 

“ Yes, ma’am, I understand,” again answered John. 

“Well, then, there is no more to be said.” 

John breathed freer when he got out of that beautiful 
presence. When he looked at the letter in his hand, he 
found a five-dollar note wrapped around it. 

The amount of her reward for John’s services had been 
a matter of considerable doubt with Edith Walbridge. 

She was ready to pay high for them ; but the thing 
which he was to do was really so slight that it was not 
best to excite his suspicions, by setting so trifling an act 
at such high value. 

John pocketed the money after glancing at it ; but he 
scrutinized the letter long and earnestly. He had, either 
consciously or unconsciously, examined the address when 
Duke placed the letter in his hand, and he was familiar 
with the young man’s bold, rapid characters. These 
were not the same. They were finer and smoother. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


297 


Aw»y down in his soul, John did not believe that this 
was the letter which Duke Walbridge had placed in his 
hands. When the young lady had turned her back to 
him as she stood by the table, had she taken up an- 
other letter, and was this the one which she had given 
John, which he now held in his hands, and which he was 
to deliver to J essamine Holland ? 

The coachman tried to ward off these uncomfortable 
questions. They somehow made him feel he was doing 
his young master, whom he heartily liked, a great wrong. 
John need not look far in order to find sophistries that 
would excuse his conduct to himself. 

The business was none of his. He was not certain but 
the letter was the same, after all. So the man did his 
part just as Edith had prescribed it for him. It was very 
little, certainly. He inquired for Miss Holland, and gave 
the letter into her hands. * 

But all the way home, it was singular how he dreaded 
meeting his young master. “ You saw Miss Holland, 
and gave her the letter, as I told you?” asked Duke, 
coming out to the stable, where John was grooming the 
horses. 

“ I saw her, and gave her the letter, sir,” answered 
the man ; but he kept on working diligently at the horse, 
and did not look up, and meet his master’s gaze. 

An hour afterward, Edith came downstairs, with pre- 
cisely the same question which her brother had done, 
and John replied in precisely the same words as before, 
only he looked the young lady straight in the face. 


298 


THE HOLLANDS . 



CHAPTER XX. 

Jessamine Holland went up to her room, carrying the 
letter which John had brought, in a strange flutter of ex- 
citement. She did not even look at the address ; but if 
anybody had caught sight of the girl’s face he would 
have seen it tremulous and flushed with some strong feeling. 

For J essamine Holland had a conviction that the letter 
she carried held her fate, that morning. 

She closed her chamber-door, and locked it, — a thing 
which she had never done since she had entered the 
household. Then she sat down and covered her face 
with her hands a moment, her heart throbbed so violently. 
It was some minutes before that steadied itself enough for 
her to open the letter calmly, and Jessamine would not 
do it any other way. 

There was a little shock in her face, when her eyes 
met the handwriting, like that of one who, in the midst 
of some strong excitement, receives a sudden blow. But 
she read on to the end. J ohn had only brought her a 
polite note, requesting Miss Holland’s company in a drive 
that afternoon. Miss Walbridge would call for her, and 
would not trouble the young lady for a reply. So the 
letter resolved itself into.^ mere ceremony, after all. J es- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


299 


samine’s feelings, wrought up as they had been, underwent 
a corresponding reaction. 

She did not know what ailed her ; she was provoked 
with herself, thoroughly blue and miserable. Nothing 
would have relieved her so much as a good cry, but Jes- 
samine was not one of those women who are always melt- 
ing into showers on the slightest occasion, and she had a 
secret feeling that giving way to a fit of weeping at this 
crisis would leave her without a particle of self-respect for 
the remainder of her days. 

The letter from Edith Walbridge had brought her a 
keen disappointment ; but what right had any young 
woman to expect letters until they came ? 

“It served her just right; and it was very kind and 
thoughtful of Miss Edith to invite her out to drive. Of 
course she would go.” So Jessamine reasoned with her- 
self, and managed to clear up her mood a little, and 
carry her usual calm face down to Mrs. Kent and the 
lessons ; but, for all that, the disappointment clung to her 
heart, like mist and chill, through the whole morning. 

Edith Walbridge went into her room also, and locked 
the door, — an unusual precaution with that young lady. 
Then she took up a letter, which had been placed very 
carefully beneath a small marble Hebe on the table. She 
looked at it several moments with her face growing stern 
and gloomy. She lighted a taper, and yet she paused a 
moment before she touched it to the thing in her hand. 
Jessamine Holland seemed suddenly to rise before her, 
the bright, sweet face, the dark, clear eyes, as she had 
looked when Edith liked her most. At the best, how- 


300 


THE HOLLANDS. 


ever, it had only been a doubtful, half liking, which the 
eldest of the Walbridge daughters felt toward their 
guest. 

What if this Jessamine Ho land loved Duke? It 
would not be a light thing with her, such as it would be 
with most young girls ; but a memory and an anguish — 
poets and authors wrote of such things — that must abide 
with her through life. 

I think a pang of pity smote the girl’s heart for one 
moment, as she held that little blue, curling taper in her 
hand. But it was driven out swiftly, as the air drove 
the flame toward her fingers. 

“ I counted the cost before I commenced,” muttered 
the girl, c, 'and I have sworn you shall not be my sister, 
Jessamine Holland.” Then she threw the letter on the 
„ hearth and touched it to the flame. There was a flash, 
and the next moment a little brown, shrivelled heap on 
the hearth. Edith smiled darkly, as she saw it. 

u There’s your fine love-story, Duke Walbridge, which 
you fancy your Dulcinea is drinking in now ! What a 
pity it must all be wasted ! ” 

Then she sat down and went over her part for the af- 
ternoon again, in order to have it all perfect ; and at last 
concluded that Gertrude had better accompany her on the 
drive. Her presence would add a certain emphasis of 
truthfulness to some statements which Edith had been 
carefully rehearsing for Jessamine Holland’s benefit. 
There was no need that Gertrude should know anything 
about the letter ; and Edith intended to tell her story in 
such a way that even her younger sister could hardly tell 


THE HOLLANDS. 


301 


how much was true, and how much was false ; and Ger- 
trude’s part would be only a passive one. 

Late in the afternoon, the ladies called for Jessamine, 
and the three were soon bowling along the road in their 
handsome phaeton. The Walbridge girls had never been 
in a gayer mood, or more cordial toward herself, than 
on that afternoon, and Jessamine’s spirits were naturally 
elastic, and the disappointment of the morning had grad- 
ually slipped away. She had her full share in the ani- 
mated talk, and of course there was plenty of it, for the 
young ladies had not seen each other during the summer. 

The Walbridges gave Jessamine amusing descriptions 
of their season, which the girl enjoyed, and at last — they 
had been riding for an hour or two — Edith spoke, in 
such a natural way that even Gertrude, who had been on 
the look-out for a long time, wondered if the words were 
really preconcerted on her sister’s part. 

“ There was nobody but our own family in the com- 
pany, as you know, Miss J essamine ; but we seemed to 
make a great impression of numbers wherever we stopped. 
Even the waiters talked about that large party ! It was 
very funny, for I have never considered our family a 
prodigious one.” 

“Miss Wheatley was with you, I think you said. 
She made one more,” added Jessamine. 

“Oh, yes. But then you know, Miss Jessamine, it 
has been so long settled that she is one of the family, 
that I quite forgot to omit her in the enumeration.” 

“ One of the family ! I don’t think I quite under- 
stand,” replied Jessamine. There was some curiosity; 


302 


THE HOLLANDS. 


but Edith’s sharpened ears detected nothing else under 
the tones. 

“ Oh, I thought you must know, Miss Jessamine, af- 
ter being with us all last winter. There has been an en- 
gagement between Duke and Margaret Wheatley ever 
since they were children. You know the intimacy of the 
two families, and this has strengthened it. That my 
brother and Margaret are warmly attached to each other 
does not admit of a doubt ; and yet — I am certain I can 
trust you, Miss Jessamine, with a family secret which 
has given us of late a good deal of uneasiness — Duke 
does not seem to show much of a lover’s ardor about con- 
summating his marriage. We fancied that it would take 
place this fall, but it is not likely to come off earlier than 
next spring. Duke is, as you are aware, Miss Jessamine, 
the queerest of mortals, and of course there is no need he 
should be in a hurry ; and Margaret, secure in his attach- 
ment, is content enough to wait. Nobody would expect 
Duke Walbridge to do just like other people, even in his 
courtship, you know, Gertrude.” 

“Oh, no, of course not,” answered the other, in a 
rapid, acquiescent tone ; and that was all Gertrude’s share 
in the matter. 

We have all of us heard people whose limbs have been 
shattered by some terrible blow, relate how at the mo- 
ment of the stroke they were not conscious of any pain, 
only a sensation of sudden numbness or paralysis. 

Precisely of this sort was Jessamine Holland’s feeling. 
The blow was stunning, but its very force made her calm. 
Whatever feeling surged beneath her voice, that was 


THE HOLLANDS. 


303 


steady enough as it answered, “ I never suspected all 
this, Miss Edith ; and yet I can understand it now per- 
fectly. Miss Wheatley must he most welcome to your 
family. ” 

“ Oh, of course, with our long friendship. We never 
joke Duke about his engagement. He does not like it. 
That is another of his oddities ; so you never heard the 
matter talked over.” 

“ Yes.” And there was no reason she should say any- 
thing more. 

It was growing dark now, and the phaeton had turned 
homeward some time ago. Edith had the talk largely to 
herself, and her spirits seemed to rise as the carriage 
swept along the smooth roads in the deepening twilight. 
Jessamine answered promptly enough whenever it was 
necessary ; but she sat very quietly in her corner of the 
carriage, and Edith had a feeling through all that the 
girl had had some awful hurt. 

It was not precisely a comfortable feeling to have such 
a companion by her side, and Edith certainly felt a sense 
of relief when they drove into the Kent grounds, and the 
quiet figure was lifted out on the veranda. But she 
played her part well, even to the final adieux. 

The carriage had barely turned around before Ger- 
trude commenced. “ Why, Edith Walbridge, I had no 
idea you were going to make a story out of whole cloth 
like that ; neither had mamma, I am sure, or she would 
never have consented to it.” 

“What did you expect I was going to do, then?” 
asked Edith, a little defiantly. 


804 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“ Why, that you were going to give Miss Holland to 
understand there was something between Duke and Mar- 
garet that — that we hoped would amount to an engage- 
ment some day.” 

“Much good that would have done ! ” said Edith, con- 
temptuously. 

“ How you ever got through with it, I can’t imagine,” 
added Gertrude. 1 ‘ It was all a story from beginning to 
end. It would have stuck in my throat.” 

To tell the truth, Gertrude was a good deal amazed 
and shocked. An absolute lie was something which 
Mrs. Walbridge’s children had been taught to regard as 
really wicked, like swearing or stealing. 

“ ’Twas not made out of whole cloth,” answered 
Edith. “ Of course I had to stretch things some when I 
got to talking ; but I should like to know if there has not 
always been a strong attachment betwixt Duke and Mar- 
garet, and if we don’t all hope and expect they will bo 
married ? ” 

“ Well, yes, that is true ; but the engagement isn’t,” 
added the younger lady, with a new sense of her sister’s 
diplomatic shrewdness, and beginning to feel Edith was 
not quite so far wrong as at first appeared. 

“ Well, they ought to he, if they’re not. I only in- 
tended to anticipate facts a little.” 

Just then the carriage reached home. After all, 
Edith had made a good defence of her conduct — to her- 
self, at least. 

The Kents had gone out to pass the evening, and 
would not be home until late. Jessamine Holland re- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


305 


membered that, as she went up to her room, with a sense 
of relief, through all the dizziness and ache which seemed 
to have come down upon head and heart. 

They brought the baby to her for his good-night kiss, 
and somebody, she could not tell who, urged her to come 
down to tea, and she answered she was not well to-night, 
her head ached ; nobody could do her any good ; if they 
would only leave her quite alone, it would pass off. 

She seemed to be talking like one in a dream ; indeed, 
the whole world seemed to resolve itself now into some- 
thing unreal and chaotic, with the exception of that pain 
at her heart, which grew and grew like a devouring 
fire. 

And ^o, on brain and heart, the truth pressed home, as 
though it must kill her, that she loved Duke Walbridge, 
and that he was lost to her — lost to her this side the 
grave ! Oh, how cool and pleasant its silence and dark- 
ness yawned open to her then ! She did not wring her 
hands and cry ; she sat still and looked her fate in the 
face — sat just as still as she used to sit in the corner, 
when she was a little child, and there was no supper to 
eat, and she was very hungry; but if she cried, her 
mother would hear her, and then a hysteric spasm, or a 
fainting fit, would be likely to follow, and either of these 
the poor child dreaded more than the hunger. And now 
the pale, set, wistful face had just the look of that little, 
hungry, still child’s sitting long ago in the corner. 

The moon came out, a large, reddish, solitary moon, 
and looked at her. It used to do that sometimes in the 
old home, she remembered, and she used to wonder, too, 
26 


306 


THE HOLLANDS. 


if it knew and felt sorry for her. She almost wondered 
that now. There was nobody in the whole world who 
pitied her. Did God, even, sitting away up in his 
heaven, — his heaven so happy and so far off? And 
through all the pain grew and grew like a devouring 
fire. 

It was an awful night to the girl — so awful that it 
seems almost sacrilege for me to move aside the veil so 
that you shall look in and see, — a night which she would 
never forget, even when she should be a gray, wrinkled 
old woman, — a night whose memory would make her ten- 
derer and softer to all loss that come to young men and 
maidens ; that would make her speak of their sorrows 
gravely, never joining in common laughter or jest over 
them, with a feeling that earth held no sorrow, in its 
freshness, so keen and bitter as that of disappointed 
love. 

She learned then, as she never could have learned in 
any prosperous courtship, how she loved Duke Walbridge, 
— what he might he to her through all that future, whose 
broad horizons reached away and away, as the horizons 
of life do reach in our youth, — and she must give him 
up! For the eyes shining out of that white face looked 
straight at that fact, took in its whole meaning. 

Every word which Edith’s light, rapid voice had spo- 
ken had burned itself into her soul ; and there were 
groups of circumstances to rise up and confirm Miss Wal- 
bridge’s story. Not that it ever entered into Jessa- 
mine’s thoughts to doubt it. How could it? But the 
home intimacy of the two, which she never doubted, say- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


307 


ing for one brief interval, had its roots in anything deeper 
than their boy and girl friendship, now took a new sig- 
nificance in her eyes. In a moment, too, all Duke’s con- 
duct toward herself stood out clear in the new light 
which Edith’s words had poured on it. Into the white 
face there came a sudden flush, and for just a moment 
the heart of Jessamine Holland throbbed in exultation. 
She, of all the world alone, knew why Duke was in no 
hurry to consummate his marriage with the banker’s 
daughter. His manner in the library long ago, and es- 
pecially all that happened in his last visit, told its own 
story to her heart. If she had not wholly won the love 
of Duke Walbridge from his betrothed, Jessamine Hol- 
land knew that it was in her power to do it. 

Buf with a swift gesture of horror, she put away this 
temptation from her, believing it was of the devil. She 
could see now why Duke had not spoken, and how hon- 
or had struggled with some other feeling in their last in- 
terview. She shuddered, seeing the brink of that preci- 
pice to which it seemed her unconscious hand had led 
her friend. 

The future of Margaret Wheatley -was safe in her 
hands as Olivia’s was in Viola’s. Before she would have 
betrayed it, this little Jessamine Holland would have 
gone and laid down her head with a smile, on the scaf- 
fold. He was not hers ; he belonged to another. And 
though it was more than the sweetness of life she put 
away, and more than the bitterness of death she took to 
her heart at that moment, sitting under the large, red, 
solitary moon, God be witness for this girl that 3he did 


308 


THE HOLLANDS. 


not hesitate. She would help Duke Walbridge be true 
to himself. She love'd him too well not to love his 
honor more than her own happiness. 

Whatever there might be in some cases, there was no 
reason here to justify the breaking of Duke’s engage- 
ment. Jessamine reasoned calmly now, as though she 
had nothing at stake ; perhaps a little more sternly. She 
remembered all that Edith had said about the hopes of 
both families being involved in the engagement, — that 
young woman had known just the facts most likely to ap- 
peal to a generous and sensitive nature, — she remembered 
her kindly welcome in the household — she remembered 
all Margaret Wheatley’s pleasant ways toward herself. 
Should they find at last that the stranger they had re- 
ceived in their midst had wrought mischief and misery for 
them all ! 

She could die, if it must be, J essamine thought ; but 
she could not do that other thing. , 

Yet what a dreadful, bare, empty world it looked to 
her, — all its lights and hopes blown out with those few 
careless words. One day, and then another, with noth- 
ing worth living for, and that fiery pain eating at her 
heart, while she must move among people, and talk with 
them,* as though nothing had happened, and to-morrow 
things would go on just the same as ever, even to Mrs. 
Kent's lessons. 

How long would all this last? she wondered. Until 
she grew to be an old woman, — an old woman with such 
a heavy weight of days and nights? Then could she 
ever learn to meet Duke Walbridge calmly, — ever smile 


THE HOLLANDS. 


309 


on him with just the old friendliness, — him, the husband 
of Margaret Wheatley. 

What a live stab came with that thought ! She put it # 
away quickly. Then Ross came up to her. She had 
him still to live for ; but even for him her heart hardly 
stirred now with a live nerve of feeling. She did not 
know that the young life would come back after a whil$, 

— the blow had only paralyzed it now. Then she 
thought of God, — the Father in heaven, whose heart of 
love she had trusted through all the pain and penury of 
her childhood, whose tender care she had believed would 
never desert her in any dire extremity of life ; not even 
when life failed her, and her eyes grew dim, and her last 
pulses grew low. 

Did he know of this great trouble that had come upon 
her? Did he know, and was he sorry for her? as she 
had never doubted his sorrow in the old times of her 
trouble. 

If through this great darkness she could only find his 
hand, and cling to it, she might stay herself even now 

— even now ! 

Something softened in the white set face, and the great, 
reddish, solitary moon saw the tears quivering at last in 
the bright, dry eyes. • 

“Miss Jessamine,” said Mrs. Kent, bustling into the 
room just at twilight, “Mr. Walbridge is downstairs. 

I saw him a moment. Of course, he has asked for you.” 

Jessamine gave a little start. Mrs. Kent had sur- 
prised her friend on the lounge. 


O 


810 


THE HOLLANDS. 


The girl had gone through with her lessons that morn- 
ing as usual, and had a frolic with the baby. Yet even 
he felt, as well as his mother, that something was the 
matter with “Aunt Dess.” 

She said she was not quite well. And Mrs. Kent, 
looking in her face, urged her to take a holiday ; but J es- 
samine would not hear of it. Indeed, the girl seemed pos- 
sessed of a strange, restless, nervous energy, and was 
inclined to lengthen all the lessons, until Mrs. Kent had 
to protest. 

“I can’t see him to-night,” answered J essamine, with a 
swift, smothered pain in her voice ; “lam not feeling well.” 

It was too soon to meet him calmly, after that awful 
struggle of the night before. Looking in his face, hear- 
ing his voice, the truth would slip into hers, and then he 
might say — what would undo them both — what he had 
come so very near saying only two days before. 

Once certain that she loved him, Duke Walbridge 
might make himself believe that Margaret Wheatley’s 
claim was not absolute — might make even Jessamine 
Holland believe it. She did not dare to trust herself. 

“ But, Miss Jessamine, it may do you good to see Mr. 
Walbridge. You look as though you needed something 
to animate you. Can’t you make an effort to come 
down?” asked Mrs. Kent, a little doubtfully. 

“No, thank you. You are very good, dear Mrs. 
Kent, to come up here with the message. Be, for once 
a little more so, and carry mine to Mr. Walbridge. I 
am utterly tired to-night. That is all. I shall be well 
to-morrow.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


311 


So Mrs. Kent went down, still a little in doubt, and 
delivered Jessamine’s message, which she tried to soften 
all she could, it seeming hardly kind. 

“ Not well ! I did not understand your friend was 
indisposed, Mrs. Kent? ” 

“ She would not own it this morning, Mr. Walbridge; 
but I have seen she was not just herself all day.” 

“And — and this was all Miss Holland’s message? ” 

“ This was all. She is very tired ; but I think, if you 
call to-morrow, she will be able to see you,” answered 
the hostess, not feeling quite comfortably. 

Something came into the young man’s face — some- 
thing full of pain and bitterness — which Mrs. Kent 
never forgot. Then he rose up, and was going away, 
much like a blind man, who is going toward light or air, 
and he seemed quite unconscious of the lady’s presence ; 
but just as he reached the door, he turned, and said, in a 
hard, dry tone, “ I beg your pardon, Mrs. Kent. You 
are very kind. I hope your friend will be quite well to- 
morrow. Good-night.” And he went out. 

Edith Walbridge’ s plot had worked well. 

This was Jessamine Holland's answer! Duke Wal- 
bridge had ridden over to the Kents that night, and his 
heart was a young man’s, strong in its first hope and 
dream of love. Jessamine had read his letter, he thought, 
the man blushing all alone, in the twilight, like a girl. 

And this was her answer ! 

His horse led him out of the grounds, and took the road 
home. He might have gone there, or anywhere else, for 
all his young master knew or cared. 


812 


THE HOLLANDS. 


And this was Jessamine’s answer ! 

It might have seemed chill or heartless to some men ; 
but even in that moment, Duke Walbridge would not 
accuse her in his inmost thoughts. She had chosen that 
method of answering him, because it seemed the swiftest 
and easiest, if the deadliest. She would not see him to 
give him pain ; would not write him, because no soft, com- 
monplace words, such as women oftenest use, could soothe 
the bitterness of her No. 

It was like her to answer him with silence, and it was 
best so ! Yet something in her voice, in the very droop 
of her head yesterday, had given him courage to write 
that letter. 

He groaned out sharply, as the whole scene came up 
before him, and then he rode on through the darkening 
night, not knowing nor caring whither, until at last he 
found himself at the gate of his own home. 

After dismounting, Duke Walbridge went to a dark 
thicket in one corner of the grounds, and threw himself 
down among the evergreens. The moon, a little larger 
and redder than last night, and as solitary, stood over him, 
and she saw the awful anguish of his face ; saw him throw 
himself down on the damp ground. 

Jessamine Holland was a tender maiden, yet she had 
taken her blow more calmly than the man did his. 

He thought how he had loved her, and how she was 
lost to him, and he felt that his youth was wrecked and 
his life a failure, which was natural enough if it were 
not true. She was the woman whom he could love ; he 
should never find another like her, — there could be no 


THE HOLLANDS . 


813 


hope for him ; there was but one interpretation of her 
answer. 

He wished he was dead, — wished that night Ross had 
not plunged after him, but that he had gone down, 
down in the storm and darkness, to sleep there in cool, 
wide reaches of salt waves, where his grief could never 
have found him. And there in the wet, chill, black mass 
of evergreens Duke Walbridge struggled with his fate. 
Perhaps he thought of God — I cannot tell ; but if he 
did, it was not as J essamine had done , for a hard, tumult- 
uous, desperate mood possessed him, a mood which only 
asked, ‘ 4 Why hast thou denied me the prayer of my heart ? ” 

Let us leave him, as we left Jessamine, alone with the 
awful grief into which it is sacrilege to enter. 

It was almost midnight when Duke Walbridge entered 
his home. Company had kept the family up late, and 
Mrs. Walbridge and Edith had been anxiously awaiting 
Duke’s appearance. They knew he had ridden out that 
evening, and there was little doubt about his destination, 
and neither of the ladies could await his return without 
trepidation. 

A private interview betwixt Duke and Jessamine Hol- 
land might disclose some very ugly facts. Edith had 
been on the watch to forestall that. She had counted on 
Duke’s awaiting a reply to his letter, and on his accepting 
the silence as a denial of his suit. But if Duke saw the 
young lady, the fact of his having written her a letter, 
which she had never received, could hardly fail to trans- 
pire. Duke was not suspicious ; but once hold of the 

thread, he would not fail to unwind the whole tissue of 
27 


314 


THE HOLLANDS. 


falsehoods ; and Edith, with all her audacity, could not 
contemplate the possibility of Duke’s discovering her plot 
without trembling. 

Both of the ladies had passed a sufficiently miserable 
evening. Both saw at the first glance that Duke had 
learned nothing. But his face had a worn, tired, old 
look, which went to the heart of his mother. 

Mr. Walbridge was nodding in his chair. His son’s 
entrance started him wide awake. 

“ Father,” said Duke, in a dry, mechanical tone, as 
though he took no interest in the matter, “I’ve altered 
my mind about going out West to see that land. I’m ready 
to start to-morrow.” He threw himself into a chair. 

At dinner-time he had strongly opposed the whole 
scheme, — insisted he was not qualified to undertake the 
business. Then his mother and sister both knew what 
had wrought this sudden change in Duke’s plans. 

His father brightened up at the announcement, and 
commenced a brisk talk ; but it was doubtful whether 
Duke, sitting in the chair, with his tired face, took in one 
word. 

“ 0 my boy ! ” said his mother, leaning over and 
laying her hand on his knee, “ it will be very hard to 
part with you. I shall miss you every hour.” 

Her son looked at the lady, with some secret pain in 
his eyes, and a glimmer of a smile on his lip, that it hurt 
her to see. 

“Shall you?” he said. “ I suppose you do care a 
little something for me, mother.” 

“ 0 my boy, I would die for you ! ” And the mother 


THE HOLLANDS. 


315 


in Mrs. Walbridge felt all she said. And if she could 
have gazed, for one moment, into the cruel anguish she 
had wrought for those two young souls, not all the wealth 
of Margaret Wheatley’s father could have brought Mrs. 
Walbridge to carry out the deed at which she had at least 
connived. 

That night Edith and her mother sat up and talked 
together, until almost morning. 

After Duke’s departure, Mrs. Kent went upstairs to 
Jessamine with a perplexed face. Something, plain- 
ly, had gone wrong betwixt the two. Remembering the 
young man’s look, the lady was half inclined to be 
provoked with her friend. 

“I delivered your message, Miss Jessamine, but I 
thought Mr. Walbridge was surprised, and a little hurt.” 

Jessamine moved restlessly. “ I am sorry to give him 
any pain, but I could not go down to-night.” 

All the bright elasticity had gone out of her voice — 
out of her face too. She spoke and looked like one who 
is worn out with some awful struggle. Mrs. Kent was 
dreadfully puzzled. The whole thing was more serious 
than she had imagined. 

With an instinct of helpfulness, she resolved to plunge 
right into the difficulty. “If I did not think you both 
above such things, I should fancy this a lover’s quarrel, 
Miss Jessamine.” 

The girl did not so much as blush or smile. She only 
Baid, in that dead-live tone of hers, “ Duke Walbridge 
and I will never be anything of that sort to each other.” 

“ I’m not so certain of it,” continued the lady, determined 


316 


THE HOLLANDS. 


to press matters home now. 11 The gentleman’s look and 
manner, when he left, were very much like what I fancy 
a rejected lover’s must be.” . 

Jessamine’s face winced with a quick pain. She closed 
her eyes a moment. The words she must speak now 
would cost her a great pang, but it would be something to 
have them over, and the sooner Mrs. Kent knew, the 
better. 

“ Duke Walbridge is engaged to Margaret Wheatley. 
I should have told you before, but I did not know it 
myself.” 

“ Engaged to Margaret Wheatley ! ” exclaimed Mrs. 
Kent, in a tone of breathless amazement. “I don’t be- 
lieve one word of it.” 

“ But it is true,” answered Jessamine, very decidedly. 
1 ‘His sister told me so. They have known each other 
ever since they were children, and the engagement has 
been a very long one.” 

“His sister told you so ! ” repeated Mrs. Kent, still 
incredulous. “ Why did he never acknowledge it 
then ? And why has the family kept it secret all this 
time ? ” 

“ Duke never liked to be joked about it, and I suppose 
he thought it enough that his family and hers understood 
the relation. I ought to have suspected it myself from 
the intimacy of the two ; but I attributed it to their old 
friendship.” 

“ It is a very curious affair,” said Mrs. Kent, musing- 
ly. “ I never dreamed of his being Miss Wheatley’s 
lover in the few times I have seen them together. Why 


THE HOLLANDS. 317 

did his sister feel called upon to inform you of the fact 
at last ? ” 

“ It all came out yesterday during our drive. She 
took it as a matter of course that I understood long 
before.” 

“It was Miss Edith told you? ” still questioned the 
lady. 

“Yes, and Gertrude; at least she assented to all her 
sister said forgetting, for the moment, how the latter 
had simply listened to the other’s statement, although 
long afterward Jessamine remembered this. 

“ If Duke Walbridge loved Miss Wheatley, it was his 
duty to let you know it. A man with a far less nice sense 
of honor than he would feel that. If it is an old engage- 
ment, as his sister calls it, something is wrong there now, 
Miss Jessamine. A man who loves a woman as he 
should, before he marries her, is never afraid or ashamed 
to confess it.” 

There were some scorn and some anger in the lady’s 
voice. Her feeling for her friend was strong, and she 
would have said more than that, had she not glanced at 
Jessamine’s face. The words that blamed Duke Wal- 
bridge stabbed Jessamine, though they were spoken for 
her sake. 

“Mrs. Kent,” she said, solemnly, with a feeling that 
she could not wisely withhold the truth now, “ if, as his 
sister said, Duke Walbridge has shown, of late, no eager- 
ness for. his marriage, and if his engagement was entered 
into long ago, still the heart of one woman and the hap- 
piness of two families are involved in it. Margaret and 


818 


THE HOLLANDS. 


he belong to each other. No one has any right to come 
between them.” 

Mrs. Kent knew then what Jessamine meant, and why 
she had refused to see Duke Walbridge. She knew, too, 
what stuff Jessamine Holland was made of, and that what- 
ever power was in the girl’s hands, and whatever it might 
cost her, she would help Duke Walbridge to be true to him- 
self and to Margaret Wheatley ! 

Mrs. Kent looked at the face lying among the crimson 
cushions of the lounge, like a child’s face, worn and old 
with sorrow. The sight made her heart ache. Yet she 
showed her native delicacy by not speaking one word. 
She went over and took the tired face in her lap, and kissed 
it. 

It was a little act ; but you know sometimes what lit- 
tle acts are worth. In all her life to come, Jessamine 
would never forget that one. 

The two women understood each other. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


319 


CHAPTER XXL 

Duke Walbridge, on his way to the West, stopped in 
New York. He intended to remain only a single day and 
night. A strange, morbid restlessness possessed him. 
The wider the distance betwixt him and that which had 
made alike “the keenest joy and the bitterest agony of 
his life,” the better it seemed for him. 

There was nothing in New York to interest him in his 
present mood. The streets, the hurrying crowds, the glare 
of light, all that passed before him seemed like one vast, 
miserable farce. 

What a wretched Vanity Fair this world was, and 
what fools made up the show ! ” Was it worth the 
gunpowder, the plumes, the shouting, and the lights? 
Well, it would be over soon, that was one comfort; and 
then poor Antonio’s words drifted across his sullen 
thoughts, an<l hardly helped to make them better : — 

“A stage where every man must play his part. 

And mine a sad one.* 

It was a dark hour with Duke Walbridge. All his old 
faith, all his high resolves, went dowm into a grave darker 
and deeper than the grave where his heart had gone. 


320 


THE HOLLANDS. 


I suppose no man could be refused by the woman whom 
he had loved generously and absolutely, and not go through 
much what this one did. I suppose, too, that any man 
who had not something weak and flaccid at bottom would 
rally sooner or later, not letting a woman’s “ No ” blight 
his life. Still, the times when some dreadful blow seems 
to have swept off our faith and hope are dangerous for all 
of us. More so, probably, for men than women. 

A great temptation was coming, silent and swift, 
toward Duke Walbridge. In the evening he called to 
see Margaret Wheatley. He had promised his family to 
do this, and brought various messages from home. Then 
the sight of a friendly face, particularly so fair a face as 
that of Margaret Wheatley's, could not be unpleasant to 
him. 

The banker’s daughter welcomed him in her sweetest 
way. He took her quite by surprise ; and it was natural 
enough she should susp.ect that her charms had been the 
lodestone which had drawn him to the city. 

Indeed, Margaret Wheatley sometimes wondered with- 
in herself whether that odd, fascinating Duke Walbridge 
had not been, like the knight in the old story, — 

“ Signed with a spell,” 

which made him proof to the charms of all women. A 
tithe of the attention which she had lavished on that 
young man would have vanquished any other, Margaret 
solemnly believed ; and this girl had been used to having 
whatever she wanted. Her pride was a little piqued, and 
the prize was doubly enhanced in value ; because Marga- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


821 


ret Wheatley, with all her charms, was in her secret soul 
a little uncertain whether she could secure it. 

She was in her most fascinating mood to-night, bright 
and soft, and her talk took away something from her 
companion’s darkness and pain. She always amused, 
him, and the two always found plenty to say to each 
other. 

Duke had never liked Margaret quite so well as he did 
to-night, and he gave himself up to whatever power she 
possessed over him. In all their friendship, unrestrained 
as it had been, Duke Walbridge had always borne him- 
self toward Margaret Wheatley for simply what he was, 
her intimate friend from boyhood. No subtle tenderness 
of tone or look had ever given her cause to suspect that a 
lover’s partiality lay beneath them. 

• Duke Walbridge had so much grace in him that he 
would never descend to a flirtation with any woman. I 
use the word in its essential meaning, and not in that 
light, conventional one which expresses merely the social 
relations, the brightness, the frolic and mirth which are 
a part of the life of young men and women — natural and 
harmless. Duke Walbridge meant something different 
from that, and knew what he meant. 

% “ That flirting in a woman was bad enough,” he always 

insisted to his sisters ; 11 but it was worse in a man, because 
his position made him in some sense ‘master of the 
situation.’ ” 

He knew, too, all the fascination there was in that kind 
of game. But long before he had ever met Jessamine 
Holland, Duke Walbridge had settled with himself that 


322 


THE HOLLANDS. 


his record should be as pure as he should wish that of the 
woman’s whom he would ask to be his wife. 

He had kept faith with himself through the strong 
temptations which, in his family atmosphere, must be cer- 
tain to fall in his way. 

He held there was hardly anything more cruel and base 
than to imply, by all the nameless language of look and 
speech, that a man felt a tender regard for a woman whom 
he had no thought of asking to be his wife, knowing all 
the time that he was awaking some interest and hope to 
which he could never respond. 

“ It was almost the meanest and cruelest wrong a fellow 
could do,” he used to say, when some circumstance brought 
up the matter at home; “ because he knew there was no 
redress ; knew that he was perfectly safe, for no woman 
had any real claim on a man before he had fairly proposed* 
to her. 

11 Of course, any woman was fortunate to be deserted 
by such a coward and a sneak ; but that fact did not save 
him from falling as much below the level of pickpockets, 
as a woman’s heart was of more value than her purse.” 
That was the way Duke Walbridge talked ; and all this 
with a great deal else, plentifully seasoned with praise, 
and laughter at his odd notions, had been duly reported to 
Margaret Wheatley by Duke’s sisters. 

She did not like him the less. Do you think any 
woman would ? 

So that night the young man sat in the banker’s splendid 
parlors, and the daughter sat at his side, — sat there with 
her bright, delicate, high-bred face, with all her native 


THE HOLLANDS. 


328 


charm of manner, set.off by those fine touches of social art, 
which add a crowning grace to the most attractive woman. 

Duke could not help looking at her, admiring her ; and 
as she smiled and talked, other thoughts came ta him. 

He had staked all, and lost, — God only knew what the 
loss had been ; but was not here at his side the woman 
whom, next to J essamine Holland, he liked best in the 
world ? 

He thought of his family, and how great a delight it 
would be to them to learn at last that their long hopes 
about him and Margaret were consummated. 

Was there anything better than this in life for him? 
Jessamine Holland had failed him. The fine sympathy, 
the high ideals, had gone with her. Perhaps he had been 
a romantic fool to expect them in any woman ; it seemed, 
that when he called, there had been no echoing response 
in her soul, only silence. 

Was not Edith partly right after all, and his mother 
too ? He had sought what he believed the highest good, 
and now, at least, if the lower fell to his share, had he not 
a right to take it ? 

Tortures might not have wrung a confession from Duke 
Walbridge, but in his soul he had no very serious doubt 
as to how his suit with Margaret Wheatley would prosper. 
All this in his thoughts, his manner slightly changed toward 
her. There was something in it which she had never felt 
before. In a little while, the young man came to ques- 
tioning with himself whether he should be doing any harm 
to ask Margaret Wheatley if she would be his wife ? It 
was true he preferred another woman before her, but that 


324 


THE HOLLANDS. 


woman could never be anything but a bitter memory to 
him. He liked his old playfellow. As for loving this 
one, — well, he could do that enough to make her satisfied 
and happy. What more was needed ? 

Duke Walbridge was just in the mood to make a des- 
perate plunge into something new ; the hard, material side 
of things had the advantage just then. 

And Margaret smiled and sparkled by his side. 

“It is wholly absurd, Duke, your starting off West to- 
morrow; ” for she had at last found what had brought 
him to the city. “Don’t be quite so parsimonious of 
yourself. Give us at least one day in town.” 

“Thank you, Margaret, I’m not in a bright mood. 
You would only be dreadfully moped before the day was 
out, were I to be cruel enough to take you at your word, 
and remain.” 

“ Not in a bright mood? I always liked you best in 
your glum ones, when you were a boy, for you were cer- 
tain to say so many witty, bright things, which kept me 
laughing and wondering at you. Ah ! Duke, what an 
odd little fellow you were ! ” 

“ Was I? They say at home, I am an odd big fellow 
now, you know.” 

Margaret laughed gayly. “It’s as true now as then.” 

“Yes, you liked me a little then, — at least you told 
me so ; ” and he looked at her with some grateful warmth 
in his eyes. 

“ I did? I am astonished at myself. It was highly 
improper to do so.” 

“I never thought of that. But it is quite too late to 


THE HOLLANDS. 


325 


be prudish over it now. You not only said it, but wrote 
it to me, in a most charming little letter, the week after 
you left us.” 

“How you shock me, Duke, bringing me face to face 
with such youthful follies ! I had no idea I had said so 
much to any of your sex, except papa.” 

“I can prove it to you; I have the little note-paper 
on which 1 ’tis writ,’ among my childish treasures. The 
edges are grown a little yellow with time.” 

“You have, Duke? I am flattered that you should 
have cared to preserve such nonsense.” 

This talk was dangerous ground ; and the young girl, 
sitting there in her youth and fairness, was dangerous to 
the eyes and soul of Duke Walbridge. 

“ I was the one who was flattered, Margaret. Did 
you think the paper which told me that you cared for me 
was of so little consequence that I should destroy it? ” 

“ Of course I did. But I should really like to see 
that old, childish scrawl of mine, ashamed, as I ought to 
be, of my imprudence.” 

“I am sorry to hear you accuse your own pretty 
ingenuousness ; but you shall certainly see the letter the 
next time you come to us, for I do not intend it shall 
go out of my possession, unless — ” Had he finished 
the clause it must have sealed the fate of Duke Wal- 
bridge. He happened to catch sight of the white hand, 
with its sparkle of gems, which lay in her lap, and he 
laid his hand on it with some tender gallantry, and said : — 

“ 1 In faith ’twas a fair hand ; 

And whiter than the paper it writ on 
Was the fair hand that writ.’ ” 


326 


THE HOLLANDS. 


It would be interesting to know how many lovers 
have quoted Lorenzo’s saying, since he first made it, of 
his “ beautiful Jewess.” 

With a man like Duke Walbridge, however, this 
meant something. He had not gone so far without in- 
tending to go farther. There was a little pause. A 
glow came into Margaret’s cheek, used as she was to that 
sort of talk from men. A moment longer, and Duke 
Walbridge would have come out abruptly with the ques- 
tion he had fully made up his mind now to ask her. 

At that moment they heard the voice of Margaret’s 
father, in the hall. 11 We’ve got hold of the thief, 
then? ” he said, in loud tones. 

“ Yes, sir, we’ve bagged him,” somebody’s gruff voice 
replied. 

“ Oh, I’m glad to hear that ! ” exclaimed Margaret. 

Duke turned toward her for an explanation. She 
went on rapidly. “ Papa found out the other day that 
one of the under-clerks had been forging a number of 
small checks on the house. The whole sum did not 
probably amount to five hundred dollars ; but papa was 
very earnest to ferret the whole thing out, as he always 
is in such cases. I am glad the rogue is where he will 
have no further chances for mischief.” 

“ Was he a young man ? ” inquired Duke. 

u Yes ; a mere boy, under twenty. These were prob- 
ably his first offences. Papa says he would have trusted 
him with uncounted gold a year and a half ago, when he 
came up straight from the country ; but the city proved 
too much for him. It does, in nine cases out of ten, 


THE HOLLANDS. 


327 


with that class, 1 believe. The youth fell into bad com- 
pany and extravagant habits — and there’s the end of 
him.” 

“Poor fellow! how pitiful it is, Margaret, that he 
should wreck his life at the very threshold in that way ! 
I don’t doubt, too, hut there is some heart of mother or 
sister at home to break over his fall.” 

“Yes,” answered Margaret, “I know it is very bad; 
but these things are always happening. The papers are 
full of them, you know. If people won’t take care of 
themselves, and do what is right, they must abide by 
the consequences. I am glad papa has caught this rogue. 
He set two shrewd policemen on the scent. That must 
have been one to whom he spoke just now in the hall.” 

The light, smooth voice ! Margaret spoke with less 
real interest than she would have manifested over the 
broken leg of her canary. But the words, slipping down 
the smooth voice, grated on the ear of Duke Walbridge. 
Ice was smooth too ; but was it harder and colder than 
the girl’s pity? he thought. Where was her human 
heart, that she could speak in that light, careless way, 
of a young life wrecked ; of a boy’s soul, pure and hon- 
est only such a little while ago, and gone down so early 
into crime and shame? The words might be excused, 
perhaps, but the careless tones, never. They brought up, 
in a moment, all the sharp antagonisms of their inmost 
souls. Duke saw it clearly. Margaret Wheatley and 
he might be husband and wife, hut between their two 
souls there could never be intimacy and oneness. 

It was a very small hinge ; but Margaret Wheatley 


328 


THE HOLLANDS. 


did not know her whole fate had turned on it. It did 
seem to her that there was some subtle change in Duke’s 
manner; or, at least, that he went back into just the 
Duke Walbridge she had always known ; talking in 
his free, pleasant, self-possessed way. In a little while 
her father and aunt came in ; hut all their united ener- 
gies could not prevail upon their guest to remain in the 
city over another day. 

Duke was a stronger, happier man, when he started 
for the hotel that night. Some dark and doubt had 
cleared off from his soul. He looked up at the stars, 
and he felt once more that the eternal God was over 
them. 

He began to see, too, that there must be something un- 
sound at bottom of that man’s character, who would feel 
that his life had failed because of any woman’s nay. If 
he could not live worthily without her, he was not 
worthy of winning her. 

So the hope and strength of his youth came into 
Duke Walbridge’s soul once more. Yet how very near 
he had come at one time to committing himself ! Indeed, 
he felt a little uncomfortably, recalling two or three 
speeches he had made ; but his honor was quite safe. 

“ I wish it could have been different, Margaret, old 
playfellow,” he murmured to himself; “but it was not 
my fault. We could never have understood each other.” 

As for Margaret Wheatley, she went to her room that 
night chagrined and disappointed. She had thought at 
one time that Duke Walbridge’s manner meant some- 
thing. She must have fancied him more than she did 


THE HOLLANDS. 


329 


an y other man, for she sat down and actually had a real 
cry to herself. It was the first, it would be the last, one 
for his sake ; but, for all that, her tears had some bitter- 
ness in them. Then pride and pique came to her aid. 

To think that she, Margaret Wheatley, with all her 
charms, with hosts of lovers in her train, could really be 
had for the asking, could condescend to care for that odd, 
incomprehensible Duke Walbridge ! She would never 
think of him again, for he was not worth it. 

Her pride, too, took the alarm, for Margaret Wheat- 
ley had not been a whole season in the Walbridge society, 
without discovering where their tastes inclined. Per- 
haps Duke knew this as well as herself. The very 
thought made hot flushes in her face. 

The banker’s daughter began seriously to question 
with herself whether there was one among all her suitors 
whom she really fancied 


28 


330 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Six months had passed away, and then there came 
sudden news from Ross Holland. He was about coming 
home. 

If the fact must he told, his sister needed something 
of just this sort to rouse her up into new animation and 
energy. Not that she was dull or melancholy. She 
went through all her daily duties, she was occupied from 
morning until night ; but Mrs. Kent, who watched her 
narrowly, saw something nobody else did behind all the 
energy. She was a hard taskmaster to herself these 
days, this brave little J essamine. 

Her activity seldom flagged, otherwise thoughts and 
memories would drift in, and a dreadful haunting ache 
behind them. So she kept at work ; and no doubt it 
was best for her to do this, though her cheeks lost some 
of their roundness, and there was a grieved, tired look 
about her mouth at times, which a homeless lost child 
might have worn, and which must have touched anybody 
who loved her. 

All this time, Mrs. Kent displayed the delicate care 
and consideration of a tender sister, devising a thousand 
ways to interest the girl, and to restrain her from over- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


331 


exertion. A great blow has fallen on her, but Jessa- 
mine thinks nowhere in the world could it have been so 
much softened as under the roof tree of Richard Kent. 

It is strange that Duke Walbridge did not come to say 
good-by, and still more singular that he has not written 
one word since he went away so abruptly. J essamine 
supposes that she has the clue to his silence, and it is a 
relief that he does not write. 

Mrs. Kent, though she never alluded to the matter, 
pondered the young man’s conduct a good deal. It puz- 
zled the little woman’s bright wits. Of course it was 
not possible to doubt his engagement with Margaret 
Wheatley, after two of his sisters had asserted it. Yet 
there was something inexplicable in his conduct, which 
hardly seemed in keeping with the young man’s character. 

But Jessamine seemed now quite roused into her old 
self with the tidings from the Indies. The brother 
whom she had not seen for five years was coming back to 
her, and so long as Ross lived she would have something 
to live for. She talked of little else for days together, 
and it seemed to her that her heart — the heart that had 
never beat quite strong and steady since one dreadful 
night — needed him now more than ever. 

When he came, she should try to forget there was 
anybody else in the world ; although it would come very 
hard to hear him go on about his friend, as he would be 
sure to do, and to have to answer his questions. For 
the first time in her life, she must have a real secret 
from Ross. Well, one couldn’t live in this world with- 
out having some things to bear silently. 


832 


THE HOLLANDS. 


A sudden wind of good fortune had blown upon Ross 
Holland. I suppose the sum which in his own eyes and 
his sister’s was to make his worldly prosperity would 
have seemed absurdly small to most people of very mod- 
erate means. 

Ross had cleared ten thousand dollars for his share, in 
some fortunate commercial speculations, which had 
opened to him through a very wealthy English house in 
Calcutta ; and he had, in the management of the whole 
matter, evinced such practical business skill and foresight, 
that the heads of his own firm concluded to offer him a 
clerkship in their branch house, in New York. 

The young man’s engagement did not exceed a couple 
of years, although it would no doubt be renewed at the 
end of that time, if it was not regarded best for him to 
come out again to India ; he was to receive a salary, which, 
with economy, would furnish the comforts and some of the 
graces of life to himself and J essamine. 

So, after those five years in that strange, sleepy, gor- 
geous land, with its melancholy, and mystery, and beauty, 
— five years, panting slowly through their dead heats, 
making a man of him, as they had made a woman of Jes- 
samine, — Ross was coming home. 

Well, money is a good thing. There was a fair pros- 
pect now, that Jessamine would have her cottage, with its 
half-dozen rooms, and its one veranda, and its bits of 
balconies, — a little brown cage, hung up a few miles from 
the city, in some greenery of shrubs. 

“ You could set the whole thing in your drawing-room, 
Mrs. Kent,” said Jessamine, with her old, pleased, arch 


THE HOLLANDS. 


333 


laugh, to that lady, for the latter went into the subject with 
her whole heart ; and the two spent a great many hours in 
devising the appointments of every room, and the grieved 
look about J essamine’s month grew fainter, and the voices 
of her childhood, the hopes and the dreams, sang once 
more in her heart, softer and slower it is true — 

“ As though remembering she had wept.” 

One day Mrs. Kent walked into the room where Jessa- 
mine sat, intent on a cap she was making for Ross. The 
lady walked first to the window. Outside there was a 
grieving of winds, a drifting of snows, and heaps of wild, 
desolate clouds over all. 

Mrs. Kent shivered a little, and then took up the 
previous day’s paper which happened to lie in her work- 
basket. Running over the columns, she stopped sudden- 
ly, drew her breath quickly : her strained eyes devoured 
some paragraph, and a little low cry broke from her lips. 

“ Did you speak to me? ” asked Jessamine, absorbed 
in contemplating the effect of her work. 

u I — no — I believe not.” 

Even then, Jessamine did not observe the singular tone. 
She was not facing the window where Mrs. Kent stood, 
with the paper in her hand, looking at the drooping, 
shining head, with strained eyes, full of horror. 

At last, the silence must have struck J essamine. She 
turned around, and met her friend’s stare, before the latter 
could move away. 

“ Why, what is the matter? Has anything hap 
pened?” asked the girl, startled at that look. 


334 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“No — yes — I believe so. Don’t ask me, Miss Jes- 
samine ; ” a spasm of pain in her voice. 

Jessamine was terrified. Something awful had hap- 
pened, but she had still no suspicion that it concerned her. 
The work dropped from her hands. She rose and went 
straight to Mrs. Kent, and laid her hand on the lady’s 
arm. 

“ Whatever it is, I am your friend. Tell me,” she 
said. 

Then the lady, with the wide horror still in her eyes, 
groaned out, “I cannot — I cannot — Miss Jessamine, 
lest it kill you ! ” 

“ Me! ” A pallor, coming swift as lightning into her 
face. “ Does it concern me, Mrs. Kent ? ” 

The lady was dumb. 

Then Jessamine’s fears leaped at once to the truth, — 
“ And Ross — oh ! some harm has come to him ! ” 

As she spoke, and before Mrs. Kent could reply, the 
girl caught sight of the paper. Springing forward, she 
tore it out of the lady’s unwilling hands. Her eyes went 
straight to the fatal paragraph. They gathered out its 
significance in a moment : — 

“ The ‘ Nestor,’ an East-Indiaman, heavily laden, had 
sailed from Calcutta, bound to Liverpool, on the fourteenth 
ult. She had encountered in the Indian Ocean one of the 
most terrible gales within the memory of men now living. 
The stanch old steamer, which had ridden out many a 
tropical storm, had gone to pieces at last. Not one of her 
passengers had been saved. A few of the crew had got off 


THE HOLLANDS. 


335 


in a raft, and reached the shore, to tell the fate of the tost 
vessel.” 

It was in the Nestor, hound from Calcutta to Liverpool, 
that Ross Holland was to sail on the fourteenth ult. 

J essamine stood still a moment with her rigid face and 
her glaring eyes turned on her friend, while the truth en- 
tered slowly into brain and heart. The she put up her 
hands, and a slow cry welled out of her lips, — a slow, 
wailing cry, as though her youth and hope, and all that 
there was to desire in life, went down in it. “ 0 my 
God ! I am all alone in thy world — all alone ! ” and 
with that cry she dropped at Mrs. Kent’s feet. 


836 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A month has come and gone, and J essamine Holland is 
alive still. There was no danger that she would die from 
the beginning. There was too much strong, young life in 
her to go out under any swift blow of sorrow. 

It is true that Mrs. Kent did not reason in that way. 
She saw her friend’s face grow sharper and older each 
day, while no tears, no strong emotion of any sort, seemed 
to break up its dead, white calm. She looked, as faces do, 
when the hearts under them are broken. After the first 
week, during which the girl was too ill to leave her room, 
Mrs. Kent, who kept insisting that something must be 
done, sent, without consulting anybody, for Hannah Bray. 

The honest, faithful soul came at once. Mrs. Kent 
took her upstairs without acquainting Jessamine of the 
arrival. “ 0 my poor baby ! ” Mrs. Bray burst out, 
as soon as she crpssed the door-sill, and caught a glimpse 
of the white, young, hopeless face on the pillow. 

The familiar voice, the homely, kindly face, the very 
words she had heard so often, broke up the dead calm at last. 

The old home, the dreamy father, the anxious mother, 
the boy brother, — all rushed, like the rushing of mighty 
winds upon Jessamine’s soul. She put out her arms, just 


THE HOLLANDS. 


387 


as she had often done when she was a baby; and Hannah 
Bray took the girl in her arms, just as she had done then, 
and after long waiting, the agony of sobs and tears, which 
Jessamine’s heart had carried all this time, poured itself 
forth on the old, faithful bosom. 

11 It will kill her — it certainly will ! ” said poor, fright- 
ened Mrs. Kent, crying like a child herself. 

“ No, it won’t ; it will do her good in the end,” sobbed 
Hannah Bray. 

And it did. Jessamine slept that night the sound, 
dreamless sleep of overwrought soul and body ; and when 
she awoke in the morning, there was the old, dear, home- 
ly face at her pillow, working and smiling betwixt 
tenderness and pity, and a little ghost of a smile came 
out on Jessamine’s lips. 

They brought the baby to her, and he looked, with his 
blue, wondering eyes, into “ Aunt Dess’ ” face, finding 
something there which he could not understand ; and then 
he laid down his fresh, dewy cheek on hers, and the touch 
entered into her heart and comforted her. For a while 
it seemed to J essamine she could see nothing but that black 
sky, hear nothing but the shrieks of the wind through 
.. the cordage, and the thunder of those black, swirling 
waves, into which the dear face went down; but very 
softly, little by little, other sights and sounds came to take 
their places. 

It is true, she was all alone in the world ; but it was 
God’s world, after all ; and the heaven where her house- 
hold was gathered was his also. One day she expected to 
find them there. The desolate, empty years were before 
29 


383 


THE HOLLANDS. 


her, the lonely, tired, aching heart, if God so willed, to 
carry across them ; and thinking this, she would turn away 
her head and cry slowly to herself with the awful sound- 
ing of those distant seas, under which, somewhere, the 
dear head was lying so low. 

But it was something that now she asked every day for 
the baby, and asked Hannah Bray, too, all kinds of ques- 
tions about her home, and the tow-headed children there. 

Then, what a friend Mrs. Kent was ! u You shall have 
a home with us as long as you live,” said the generous 
little woman; “and when we get quite insufferable, we 
will let you off for a little while, to go up and see Han- 
nah Bray. But, mind, we shall be after you if you stay 
long.” 

Her husband, too, was so thoughtful and sympathetic, 
that Jessamine, in her gratitude, thought she had never 
fully appreciated the man before. It is true, the sym- 
pathy of Richard Kent took that practical shape which 
was the man’s habit, and which Jessamine specially stood 
in need of. He ascertained at once, from the branch of 
the East India house in New York, whether the ten thou- 
sand dollars were secure from all mischance ; and when he 
learned that the brother’s death in no wise affected his 
fortune, he set about having it well secured to J essamine, 
and promised her to invest it where it would bring fat 
dividends, — “ twelve per cent, at the smallest, child.” 

So J essamine had her fortune at last, and Ross had paid 
his life to find it ! Still, his sister knew that in the last 
hour, when the young soul gazed death in the face, he 
had remembered with a flash of joy that he should not 


THE HOLLANDS . 


839 


leave his sister helpless and dependent in the world. All 
this was proved by the care he had taken, before he sailed 
from Calcutta, to secure his fortune to her in case any 
mischance befell him. And Mr. Kent, having had am- 
ple proofs of this foresight when he visited the branch 
house in New York, returned loud in the young man’s 
praises. 

“ The whole thing did honor to his head and heart,” 
he told J essamine ; and it was sweet, and sad too, to re- 
member that all the comfort and ease of her future would 
be the gift of th^t dead brother. 

She was independent now ; and though she should never 
sit under the little roof-tree of the cottage that was to be 
Ross’ and hers, she did find a live thrill of pleasure in 
devising improvements for Hannah Bray’s house. The 
woman should have the new bedroom on which she had 
set her heart so long, and the little shabby parlor should 
be refurnished. 

• No, Jessamine was not dead yet. Of course the sad 
tidings had made a great sensation at the Walbridges. 
Eva had cried herself sick over it, and there was not one 
of the household who did not think with pity of J essamine, 
although this feeling in the case of a few was mingled with 
some other emotions anything but pleasant. 

Edith’s plans had worked well thus far. It was best 
that her brother should be allowed a little time to get over 
the pain of his disappointment. His letters were all she 
could desire, odd and playful and hearty. 

It was true that he seemed in no haste to return home. 
“The wide, free, glorious life out there,” he insisted, 


340 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“was grand as the horizon ; the savage in him relished 
it ; and a buffalo-skin and a wigwam were the only essen- 
tials of life. The rest was pretty much all sham and 
humbug.” 

The family laughed ; but Edith began to feel it was high 
time for Duke to return home. Her masterpiece of in- 
trigue must be followed up by another. Indeed, it had 
been her plan from the beginning to manage matters so 
that Duke should be precipitated into an engagement with 
Margaret Wheatley. If it took place at all, she reasoned, 
it must be done hastily, and on his part half desperately. 

But, once done, she knew her brother too well to believe 
that he would allow himself to regret his proposal. What- 
ever he might fancy he found wanting in Margaret 
Wheatley, he would deem it disloyalty and wrong to her 
not to attempt to make the best of his own act. 

“ If I could only once get him committed in some way,” 
said Edith to herself. 

That she calculated shrewdly, the facts had proved. 
One moment only had stood betwixt Duke Walbridge and 
Margaret Wheatley. But Edith did not know that. 
“ Duke must be got home by one means, as he had been 
got off by another,” his sister reasoned. 

She made up her mind to go to New York for awhile. 
And it was an easy matter to convince Mr. Walbridge that 
he was not as well as usual that winter, and absolutely 
required his son in the city to transact some important 
business at this juncture. 

So pa's health was made the argument to induce Duke 
to return to New York. The latter had made' up his 


THE HOLLANDS. 


341 


mind to pass the winter in the territories, and no weaker 
reason would have availed to bring him home. 

Mrs. Walbridge was haunted all day by thoughts of a 
young, hopeless face, which seemed to look at her with 
something reproachful in its eyes ; and one night she 
dreamed that the girl’s mother stood by her bedside, and 
asked in solemn, plaintive tones, “What have you done 
to my poor little motherless girl ?” 

Mrs. Walbridge woke up in a great tremor, and was not 
herself all the next day. 

It was a most unpleasant duty to call on Jessamine 
Holland ; but Mrs. Walbridge braced herself to do it at 
once. It was before Hannah Bray’s arrival ; and that 
week the doctor had insisted on Jessamine’s being kept 
free from all agitation, so the lady did not see J essamine. 

But Mrs. Walbridge did her part well. Every day she 
sent inquiries and kind messages with her younger 
daughters; also choice bouquets and delicacies. 

Gertrude was out of town at this time, and Edith 
always had some excellent excuse for delaying her call 
until next day. What wonder that she shrank from meet- 
ing the eyes of J essamine Holland ? 

In the remote part of the territory where Duke was the 
mails were irregular, and Edith took good care to detain 
the letter which published the loss of the steamer in which 
Ross Holland had sailed. Not that she could really see 
how Duke’s knowledge of his friend’s death would mate- 
rially affect her plans. It might, indeed, promote them. 
If her brother should conceive it his duty to have an 
interview with Miss Holland on his return, the recent 


342 


THE HOLLANDS. 


sorrow would be likely to preoccupy both, and no danger- 
ous topics would then be opened between them. 

Still, a little doubtful, she not only detained the paper, 
but prevailed upon her mother to forbid Eva's acquainting 
her brother with hjs loss, which the child, full of ardent 
sympathy, was on the eve of doing. At last, however, 
Mrs. Walbridge insisted that her son should no longer be 
kept in ignorance of what concerned him so deeply, and 
Edith assented with a tolerable grace. 

“Perhaps mamma was right,” she reasoned. “The 
truth would have to come out some time, and any longer 
suppression of it might, in the end, raise some rather un- 
comfortable questions . ’ ’ 

The tidings found Duke Walbridge looking forward 
most reluctantly to the necessity of returning home, which 
every letter seemed to make more imperative. That 
broad, free, strong life of the prairies had braced anew the 
sinews of his soul. The spirit of those grand, solemn 
horizons had entered into him. If they had not healed 
his disappointment, they had made him brave to bear it, 
and the active, material, wrestling life was just now what 
was needed for a temperament with a strong, natural bias 
toward a dreamy, aesthetic indolence. 

The news of Ross Holland’s death fairly stunned his 
friend at the first. When he rallied from the blow, his 
thought went straight to the sister in her grief and lone- 
liness, and to his last solemn pledge to Ross. 

Her rejection of himself had not cancelled that bond. 
In all its binding force it lay upon his soul now, — now 
that the brave young head lay in the stillness of those far- 


THE HOLLANDS. 


343 


off Eastern seas. There had been none standing by to 
plunge in and rescue him in the tumult and the darkness, 
as once he had plunged in to save another. 

And must he go back and look in Jessamine Holland’s 
face, and touch her hand, and hear her voice ? 

Across the years rose the memory of that awful night 
on the Sound ; across the years stole the words he had 
spoken: “ You may trust me. I will be a brother to 
her.” And Ross must have thought of them when he .went 
down that night. 


“ Miss Holland, a gentleman has called to see you,” 
said the servant, at the door of Mrs. Kent’s sitting-room, 
to which Jessamine had come down for the first time since 
her illness. About this, there had been nothing danger- 
ous ; only a kind of slow, nervous fever had prostrated her. 

There was quite a family group around the girl reclin- 
ing on the lounge. Mrs. Kent and Hannah Bray were 
there with the baby. 

Jessamine had a vague hope that somebody from the 
Indies, or from the lost ship, would search her out some 
time with tidings of her lost brother. So she said very 
earnestly, “If you will allow him to come up here, Mrs. 
Kent?” , * 

“ 0 child, you’re not able to bear the sight of com- 
pany,” put in Hannah Bray. 

But Jessamine insisted, and it was the habit of the 
house to indulge her. Mrs. Kent of course assented, and 
the gentleman was shown up. 


344 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Duke Walbridge came forward, and as J essamine tiyned 
and looked at him, and he caught sight of the white, 
sharpened face, a cry broke out of his lips: “0 Jes- 
samine ! ” and he took both her hands, everything else 
swallowed up that moment in the thought of her sorrow 
and his own. 

And the depth of her grief made her almost calm to 
meet this man. Her face quivered, it is true, and for 
a while neither could speak, and Mrs. Kent and Hannah 
Bray went out, leaving them alone to talk of their dead 
together. 

“It was very good of you to come, Mr. Walbridge,’ ’ 
said J essamine, looking at him with her dark eyes, which 
seemed to have grown so much larger and sadder. 

“I started the day after I learned. The paper con- 
taining the account never reached me ; and my family 
hesitated to write, dreading to inflict the blow.” 

“ And because of that you came all this way, Mr. Wal- 
bridge?” 

“ Certainly. If you have forgotten what I promised 
him on our last meeting, I could not.” 

She forgot then that she was talking to the betrothed 
husband of Margaret Wheatley; she only remembered 
that he was Ross’ friend and her own, and she put her 
hand in his, in the old way that he remembered. 

“No; I have not forgotten,” she said. 

Hannah Bray was quite too doubtful of the effect of 
any strong emotion on J essamine to leave the girl and her 
friend long together. Mrs. Kent, who was strongly drawn 
toward the faithful, honest heart under the homely, 


THE HOLLANDS. 


345 


faded face, always yielded to Hannah’s experience and 
judgment. So the woman stole back in a little while; 
and after she had been introduced to Mr. Walbridge, the 
talk was carried on mostly betwixt the man and the elder 
woman. Hannah’s heart and tongue were full of Ross 
these days. 

Meantime, Mrs. Kent, downstairs, was holding a sol- 
emn parley with herself. She was a resolute little 
woman, and she had watched Duke Walbridge breath- 
lessly when he came forward to meet Jessamine. The 
feeling that leaped into his eyes with their first glance, 
was one to which the lover of Margaret Wheatley had 
no right. 

The lady felt an inexplicable hankering to allude to 
the fact of his betrothal to the young man’s face. v It 
was a delicate thing to do this, as the matter had been 
kept so profound a secret, and the lady herself was 
pledged not to divulge it. But it was not revealing the 
man’s secret to speak of it to himself. 

“ If I only had a chance, and it would come in nat- 
urally,” she mused. And at last she heard Duke Wal- 
bridge steps on the stairs, and went into the drawing- 
room, where she would be certain to meet him. 

His face brightened as he saw the lady, and after a 
cordial greeting he sat down and commenced talking of 
Jessamine. 

He was quite overwhelmed at her appearance, and was 
full of eager questions about her ; and Mrs. Kent went 
over the sad story of the day when the woful tidings 
reached them. 


346 


THE HOLLANDS: 


“ Poor Ross ! He was my best friend. I loved him 
as I did my own life. He came near losing his once for 
mine. I shall never have another friend like him.” 
The tears in his eyes, and in Mrs. Kent’s too. “ If 
there is anything I can do for Miss Holland, I beg you 
will give me that mournful satisfaction. I promised 
Ross, just as we separated, that if any harm befell him, 
I should stand always in his stead to his sister. I shall 
hold that promise sacred to the last hour of my life.” 

“ She has so few friends, — poor, lonely, heart-broken 
child!” murmured Mrs. Kent. “ She would be very 
grateful to hear you say that, Mr. Walbridge.” 

“ Grateful ! ” There was a sting of mournfulness or 
bitterness in his voice, which struck Mrs. Kent. “ She 
can never have any cause for that feeling toward me. I 
owe it to her brother that I am alive to-day.” And 
again Duke Walbridge added — “ Poor Ross ! ” 

Mrs. Kent was no female Machiavel, but she was not 
without the tact of her sex. If she could only find 
some by-path to the subject which perplexed her. 

Duke’s next remark opened one. “My family, out 
of mistaken kindness, delayed the blow as long as pos- 
sible ; and then, although I was on the lookout, as my 
friend had written me in what steamer he should take 
passage for Liverpool, the paper containing the ship- 
wreck of the Nestor miscarried. But you may be cer- 
tain I made all possible haste in returning. I did not 
even stop over one train in New York last evening, to 
see my sister Edith, but hurried across the city.” 

Mrs. Kent stumbled desperately into the opening here 


THE HOLLANDS. 847 

afforded her, not certain whether doing so was in good 
taste, but she resolved to venture. 

“ You were very kind, but I almost fear, Mr. Wal- 
bridge, that a lady who has better claims on you than 
even your sister will feel herself neglected.” 

The young man stared amazed at his hostess. He 
had, what his sisters regarded, a sublime contempt for 
gossip, and was usually invulnerable to all that light 
skirmishing of hints and jests, which affords so much 
pretty, foolish amusement. 

Such a cool broadside as Mrs. Kent’s, however, could 
not but amaze him a little. 

“ I assure you, Mrs. Kent, you are entirely mistaken. 
No such lady, so far as I am aware, exists.” 

It was hardly the time for jests, but Mrs. Kent was 
not the woman to pause now. 

“0 Mr. Walbridge ! ” — with that little laugh, and 
toss of the head, which her husband thought the most 
charming thing in the world, and which certainly was 
very attractive in its way, — “what a fine actor was 
spoiled when you turned — I cannot precisely say what. 
You really look so innocent, that I should be imposed 
upon, if my information were not derived from a source 
which places the matter beyond a doubt.” 

Some foolish gossip evidently had been busy with his 
name ; still it was best now to set the lady right. 

“ Mrs. Kent, I think you believe me a man of my 
word, and that I should scorn to deny an imputation of 
the sort you have made, if there were one particle of 
truth in it ; but I assure you, on my honor, that I have 


848 


THE HOLLANDS. 


not the faintest idea of what you mean, or to what lady 
you allude.” 

It was impossible to believe that Duke Walbridge did 
not mean what he said ; indeed, it would have been sim- 
ply an insult to imply any farther doubt of his sincerity. 

Mrs. Kent’s heart half choked her; but she had de- 
termined now that Duke Walbridge should not leave her 
house until she had reached the bottom of this mystery. 

“ I can only say, Mr. Walbridge, that you utterly 
confound me, for I had the story of your engagement 
from Miss Jessamine.” 

“ The story of my engagement from Miss Jessamine ? ” 
repeating each word slowly, like a man half-dazed, try- 
ing to take in the meaning. “ Did she believe it? ” 

“How could she help it, when she had the whole 
from the lips of your own sisters? ” 

He started then. His breath came quickly. 

“ Do you mean to sety, Mrs. Kent — do I understand 
you — ” *Duke paused a moment, trying to steady 
his thoughts. “Forgive me, my dear madam. You 
have so confounded me, that I am at a loss for words.” 

“ I assure you, Mr. Walbridge, you are not a more 
astonished man than I am woman, at this moment.” 

A pause ; then young Walbridge drew his chair nearer 
the lady. “Will you be my friend, Mrs. Kent; will 
you answer my next questions? ” ^ 

“If lean, Mr. Walbridge;” replying only to half 
of his. 

“ To whom did my sisters say I was engaged ? ” 

“ To Miss Margaret Wheatley.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


349 


She felt him start, and she fancied he grew paler 
about the lips. 

“ Which of my sisters told her so? ” 

“ Miss Edith, I am certain, though Miss Gertrude was 
present, and assented to all.” 

“ When was it, and where ? ” 

“On a ride they took together not more than two 
days before you went away. Miss Jessamine, I am 
certain, never suspected this before, but your sisters 
stated that the engagement had been a long one, and 
your extreme distaste to having such a subject a matter 
of common gossip had confined the knowledge to your 
own family.” 

“ And you say Miss Holland believed this? ” he again 
inquired. 

“ Mr. Walbridge, it was the explicit statement of your 
sisters ; there was no room left to doubt.” 

Duke Walbridge sprang from his chair, and rushed 
toward the door in a way that fairly frightened Mrs. 
Kent. Was he about to break in upon Jessamine Hol- 
land, and deny all, and what would be the effect upon 
the girl’s shattered nerves ? 

But when he reached the door, Duke Walbridge paused 
suddenly, drew back and wheeled round, and then walked 
up and down the room two or three times, like a man 
distraught. 

Then he came and sat down by Mrs. Kent, who was 
almost as much agitated as himself. He was deadly 
pale. From her heart the woman pitied him. 

“Mrs. Kent,” — speaking slowly and solemnly,— 


850 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“ that there ever was an engagement betwixt Margaret 
Wheatley and myself, or a remote hint of one, I ab- 
solutely deny. You believe me?” 

“ Entirely, Mr. Walbridge.” 

“My amazement and horror that any sister of mine, 
knowing the truth, whatever she might have desired, 
should have deliberately uttered such a falsehood, com- 
pletely unmans me. But I shall recover myself, and then 
I shall search this matter to the bottom.” 

His eyes blazed a moment, and Mrs. Kent thought to 
herself, “ I would not stand in those girls’ shoes for all 
the world could give me.” 

Soon afterward the young man took his leave, Mrs. 
Kent engaging not to relate one word of their conversa- 
tion ; and the lady and her guest parted friends for life. 

Mrs. Kent was too far excited to return upstairs. 
She continued pacing up and down the room, muttering 
to herself, in a fragmentary way, “ Oh ! to think of it ! 
— to think of it ! My poor J essamine ! What awful 
wickedness ! But it will all come out now ! ” 

Duke Walbridge rode home slowly, trying to clear up 
his thoughts. Doubt, amazement, horror, in turns, pos- 
sessed him ; across all would flash sometimes a feverish, 
awful joy. “Had Jessamine Holland believed he was 
really betrothed to Margaret Wheatley, and did that ac- 
count for her silence? ” 

Yet what must she think, in that case, of his letter? 

The basest of men would hardly venture to write such 
to one woman, knowing he was bound to another. 

It was all a mystery ; hut his whole soul was bent on 


THE HOLLANDS. 


351 


its solution. Still he was quite worn out with all he 
had just undergone, added to a week of sleepless nights 
and days of travel. As Duke dismounted at the barn- 
door, the coachman came out, and spoke to his young 
master. Duke had never associated the man with the 
matter; indeed, he had as yet shaped for himself no 
plan of action in this emergency ; but now, with a sud- 
den impulse, he asked, “ John, you remember a let- 
ter I sent by you to Miss Holland, a couple of days be- 
fore I started West.” 

“Yes, sir,” replied John, intent on removing the 
saddle at that moment. 

“You saw Miss Holland, — you gave the letter into 
her hands just as I desired you ? ” 

“ I gave the letter into her hands, sir.” 

John's face was turned away. His master was watch- 
ing keenly. There was something not just right in the 
man's voice. 

J ohn turned toward the barn. Duke sprang forward, and 
his hand clutched the other’s and there seemed in it the 
grip of ten giants. 

“ Stand still, John. Look me straight in the face now. 
Did any human being but yourself know about that 
letter? ” 

“Well, yes, one person did — I couldn’t help it;” 
frightened at that white face, and the eyes that blazed out 
of it ; frightened at the menace in the tones too. 

“ Who was that person ? ” 

“ I promised not to tell ; but — but — don’t look at me 
in that way, sir. It was MDs Edith. She found it out 


352 


THE HOLLANDS. 


some way. I was al’ays afraid there was something 
wrong at the bottom of it.” 

“ Come into the barn, John.” 

The man followed meekly enough, and went through a 
most rigid half-hour’s inquisition. J ohn did not try to 
conceal anything. He dreaded that white face and those 
tones more than he could any possible storm of anger from 
Miss Edith. 

So it all came out. The promise she had extorted from 
him at night, and the conversation which had transpired 
betwixt them the following day in her room, after John 
had received the letter and the message for Miss Hol- 
land. 

11 She took the letter from you, you say, John, held it 
up to the light a moment, and then returned it to you ? ” 
going over slowly every point of the coachman’s story. 

“ Yes, sir. She said it was the letter. I felt mighty 
uncomfortable over it, anyhow ;” twisting his legs about in 
his agitation and excitement, in a way that must have 
struck his young master at any other time a3 immensely 
comical. 

“ She said it was the letter. Now, John, I give you 
full warning that I am in no mood to be trifled with. If 
you deceive me now, or hold anything back, it will sure- 
ly be the worse for you ; for, if it cost me my life, I will 
clear up this whole thing. Did you believe that letter 
my sister handed back was the one I gave you? ” 

“I wasn’t jest certin. Miss Edith’s back was turned 
to me a minit, and it sort o’ seemed to me she took up 
somethin’ from the table. I could tell your handwritin’, 


THE HOLLANDS. 


353 


too, among ten thousand. I saw it on the hack of the 
letter you gave me. The one I took from Miss Edith was 
different. — a finer, smaller hand, jest like her own. 5 ’ 

That was enough. Duke was silent a moment, because 
he could not speak. At last he asked quietly, u Did 
my sister reward you afterward ? ” 

“ She put a five-dollar bill in my hand. I’d rather 
given her twice as much to be clear of the whole thing. 
However, all I did was to tell Miss Holland I’d brought 
her a letter, not to say you sent it.” 

“ That was all ? ” 

“ Ye-es, sir.” 

“ No : there was something else. I plainly see it in 
your manner. I must have the whole truth, John.” 

u That afternoon I took your sisters — Miss Edith and 
Miss Gertrude — to drive, and they stopped for Miss Hol- 
land. Jest as she got into the carriage, I thought she 
thanked Miss Walbridge for her invitation that mornin’. 
That was all.” 

Duke Walbridge staggered like a drunken man to the 
window to get breath. The mystery began to clear up 
now ; but the shock was awful. That his sisters, with 
whom he had grown up, whom he had loved and trusted, 
with whom he had been cross and merry, surly and tender, 
as the mood happened, — his sisters could practise a de- 
ception so deep and base on him, was like the shaking of 
sudden earthquakes under his feet. 

There came a thought more awful still. Did his mother 
know, and had she countenanced, aided all this? For a 
moment it seemed as though some foul taint throbbed in 
30 


354 


THE HOLLANDS. 


his blood, as though his own truth, and honor, and man- 
h 3od had been blackened forever. 

But he must search the thing to the bottom. He 
turned and looked at John, who was watching him, with 
his big mouth and his big light ejes wide open, with doubt 
and trouble. 

“ You may go, John. You didn’t act a brave, manly 
part ; but your cowardice, which made you too easy a tool 
of others, seems about all that lies at your door. Would 
to God it were no worse with them ! ” 

“ Thank you, Master Duke ; ” the coarse, bronze face 
clearing up. 11 It’s plagued me ever since, at times ; and 
I feel easier now you know it all, if I lose my place.” 

But John did not fear that now. 

At last Duke went up to the house. He had not met 
any of his family since his return, having found Mrs. 
Walbridge and her daughters out for the day when he 
reached home in the morning. He crept up to his room, 
threw himself down on the lounge, and tried to see the 
way before him. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


355 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A hum of voices, a storm of knocks at the door, and 
Duke Walbridge lifted himself up. It was quite dark in 
his room by this time, and he perceived that he had been 
asleep for several hours. It was dreadfully unromantic 
at such a crisis of his fate ; but worn-out nature would at 
last assert her rights. And though Duke Walbridge had 
thrown himself on the lounge, conscious that the present 
was the most momentous period of his life, and that on the 
course which his own brain should shape and his own 
will execute, depended all his future, — its weal or woe, 
— conscious of all this, he had turned over and gone to 
sleep, like any tired animal. 

Still, that slumber had done for him at this crisis what 
no profound thoughts could ; it had cleared his brain and 
steadied his nerves. 

Meanwhile, his family, returning home, had learned 
with immense surprise of the young man’s arrival, and 
his eager sisters made an assault in a body on his door, 
and his mother waited below, impatient as her girls to greet 
her boy, — only, recalling some facts, she felt uneasy about 
meeting his eyes. 

“ Come in ! ” shouted Duke, as soon as he was fairly 


356 


THE HOLLANDS. 


awake and took in the circumstances ; and the door hurst 
open, and the girls bounded toward their brother, whom 
they had not seen for a half a year. 

An uproarious hugging and welcoming followed. 
There could be no doubt that this love was genuine which 
welcomed the young man back to his home. They called 
him “ Bear,” and “ old Bluebeard,” and all the old house* 
hold names, as they clung about him, and told him that 
he had grown brown as an Indian and fat as an Esquimau ; 
and in the midst of the laughter and chatter Mrs. Wal- 
bridge showed herself at the door. 

“ I saw that I must come to you, my boy. Tour get- 
ting away from this rabble, for the present, was hopeless.” 
And the others made way for her, and she put her arms 
right around the* big fellow, and kissed him all oyer his 
face, telling him “ how good it seemed ; how glad she was 
to have him home again — her boy.” And the tears were 
in her eyes. 

She was his mother, — the woman that, next to one 
other, his heart held dearest on earth. Duke forgot all 
the bitter anguish with which his thoughts had surged 
against her that day, as he put his arm around her and 
returned her kisses. This was the mother-heart against 
which his boyhood had leaned ; surely it would not be 
leagued against him, — it could not have sought to stab 
him to the death. 

These faces of his sisters about him, flushed with eager 
joy at his return, could these ever have combined to do 
him a lifelong deceit and wrong ? In the midst of them 
once more, with the family love tugging at his heart, 


THE HOLLANDS. 


357 


Duke Walbridge began to doubt even what Mrs. Kent had 
told him. 

'* Why, there’s pa ! ” suddenly shouted Kate. 

Sure enough ! There that personage stood in the 
door, haying just returned home and learned of his son’s 
arrival. 

11 1 thought I had as good a right here as the rest of 
’em, Duke,” coming forward. And the two wrung each 
other’s hands. 

“ Now do just see those men,” cried Eva, “shaking 
hands as though they were the merest acquaintances ! 
Men are the oddest creatures ! ” 

“ Well, what is one to do? ” laughed her father, who, 
there was no doubt, felt quite as pleased as the rest to 
have his son home again. “It’s well to have somebody 
amongst such a tribe of madcap girls, with enough of his 
senses left to keep the house from turning straight into 
bedlam.” 

“ Well, you might at least kiss each other,” stoutly re- 
joined the youngest daughter. 

“ No objections to that. ’Tisn’t the first time, Duke,” 
replied the father ; and the two, to the infinite amusement 
of the others, performed that function, as well as the 
grizzled beard and the brown one permitted. 

“ Eva ! Eva ! ” mildly admonished the mother, as that 
young girl executed a gymnastic feat, as much resembling 
a summersault as anything else. 

“ Well, mamma, I can’t help it. Indeed, you must 
excuse me, but I am so glad because Duke has returned 
home.” And again she was kissing him, and telling him 


358 


THE HOLLANDS. 


he had grown such a bronze old Hercules off there in the 
territories. 

In due time the family went down to dinner. Mrs. 
Walbridge, wishing that her eldest daughter was at home 
at this juncture, and uncertain whether his father’s wishes 
or his friend’s death had been the impelling motive of 
Duke’s return, did not allude to Ross Holland. 

The father, straightforward and practical, blundered 
right into the matter. 

, “ Horrible thing, — loss of that steamer, Duke ; aw- 
ful pity, to think of that brave young fellow’s going down 
in that way ! Felt sorry enough for you, when I heard 
it.’’ 

“It was the heaviest blow I ever had in my life, sir. 
I don’t like to talk much about it now ; but you know he 
was my dearest friend.” 

“ Yes, I know — pity ! pity ! ” repeated his father. 

“It seemed almost like losing somebody right out of 
our own family,” put in Eva. “And then poor Mis3 
Jessamine, — it’s almost killed her.” 

“I know it has,” answered Duke, shortly, as one does, 
when words hurt. 

“ How do you know, Duke ? ” continued Eva, and there 
was silence at the table. 

“ Because I saw her this afternoon.” 

“ You did , — you saw Miss Holland ? ” continued the 
girl, and everybody listened. 

A little start on his mother’s side — a little swift glance 
went up between her and Gertrude. Duke did not seem 
to be looking, but he saw for all that. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


859 


“ Yes ; I went directly to the Kents. I suppose you 
all knew I would do that. I saw Miss Holland only a 
few moments, long enough to perceive, however, what 
work the last few weeks have made with her.” 

“ Oh, it was dreadful ! ” continued the girl. “ I thought 
it must certainly kill her at first. I’m afraid it will yet.” 

Mrs. Walbridge breathed freer. It was evident that 
nothing had transpired in the interview betwixt her son 
and Miss Holland, which could give her any uneasiness, 
and his father’s business would make it necessary for Duke 
to return to New York in a few days. To do the woman 
justice, too, she had undergone some keenly remorseful 
pangs, which were quite a new experience with Mrs. Wal- 
bridge, and which made her just now think less of any 
intrigue than of Jessamine Holland’s sorrow. 

“We all pitied her from our hearts, Duke — poor 
child! We all pitied you, too, knowing how you would 
feel ! ” 

“ Yes, mother — girls, only don’t talk about it now.” 

Of course no more was said, but they did not rally into 
their old spirits, and it seemed as though the shadow of 
Ross ’ death fell around that supper-table. 

“Gertrude,” said Duke, during the evening, “come 
and take a little walk in the hall with me.” 

That promenade was an old habit of his. Nobody 
thought anything strange of the invitation. Gertrude 
accepted her brother’s arm with alacrity. 

“ Why didn’t you ask me too ? ” inquired Eva, betwixt 
a pout and a smile. 

“ Because your turn is coming a little later, Pussy.” 


360 


THE HOLLANDS. 


For a while, the brother and sister paced hack and forth, 
talking over events that had happened to both during his 
absence. If each was a little grave, that was natural 
enough after the talk about Duke’s friend. 

At the end of the hall there was a small side-room, 
hardly larger than an alcove ; a quiet place, with no especial 
use, where books and flowers were always scattered about, 
and where anybody was secure from interruption. Duke 
drew his sister in here; placed her in an arm-chair, 
where the light shone full upon her face. He sat down 
on a divan near her. 

u Gertrude,” — leaning his head on his hand, and speak- 
ing very low and deliberately, — “ did you ever give Jessa- 
mine Holland any reason to suppose that an engagement 
existed between Margaret Wheatley and myself? ” 

Gertrude started, and stared at her brother as though 
a poniard had transfixed her ; her lips paled. “What do 
you know — -‘who has been telling you anything? ” she 
stammered. 

“ No matter about that now; I am asking what you 
know, and, Gertrude, I must have the truth ; ” his jaw 
settling grimly now. Gertrude’s first start had betrayed 
her. Edith would have acted the part better. 

“ I — I don’t want to say anything about it — I wish 
you would not ask me, Duke;” her face getting paler. 

“ Gertrude Walbridge, do you think I am a fool, to be 
put off in that fashion? It is my right to ask you. 
Answer my question ! ” 

His face, his voice, fairly frightened her. She still 
stammered, and tried to prevaricate ; but there her brother 


THE HOLLANDS, 


361 


stood, grim as fate, and with that look which it was hope- 
less to defy. At last she broke out, “ I never told Jes- 
samine Holland that you were engaged to Margaret 
Wheatley,’’ — which you will remember was the truth, 
reader. 

“ Never told her so, Gertrude? Did you ever know 
of anybody else who said this ; and did you sit quietly 
by and not lift your voice to contradict so absolute a 
lie?” 

“I couldn’t help it, Duke. There were reasons;” 
growing white and red by turns. 

“ Reasons for such a foul deception as that ! Again, 
do you take me for a fool, Gertrude Walbridge? ” 

The blaze in his eyes made her tremble. Poor Ger- 
trude! The whole affair wore such a different aspect 
now, as she sat there alone face to face with her brother, 
from the one it had under Edith’s soft handling, which 
made the younger girl believe, for the time, that the 
deception was justifiable. If her elder sister was there, 
she would face Duke out. Gertrude made a faint at- 
tempt at Edith’s old sophistries. 

“We always hoped and expected you and Margaret 
would be engaged to each other. You knew she liked 
you, and, under the circumstances, it seemed almost your 
duty to have her.” 

“ As for my duty, I am the one to decide that. You 
knew, for I had told you so, that I had no thought of 
ever asking her to be my wife, and do you mean to tell 
me now that my conscience, my honor, are not unsold ; 

that I ever gave Margaret Wheatley to suspect, by 
31 


'862 


THE HOLLANDS. 


word or act of mine, that I could be more to her than I 
frankly avowed to you all?” 

Gertrude was struck dumb. If Edith were only 
there ! She lost all self-possession. 

“ I will go straight to mamma with all this. I will 
not answer another of your questions, Duke,” she cried, 
and, springing up, rushed toward the door. 

A hand of iron griped the girl, and brought her back ' 
and set her down helplessly in the chair. She burst 
into tears, half of fright, half of anger. 

Tears from a woman always melted Duke. They 
touched him now ; but, for all that, he was resolute. 
He sat down by Gertrude’s side, and brought all his per- 
suasiveness, and all the magnetism of his will, to bear 
on her. She was afraid both of her mother and of 
Edith ; but her brother proved to her that he was sub- 
stantially acquainted with the facts. 

At last the whole came out, dragged from most un- 
willing lips, it is true ; but Duke did not leave Gertrude 
until she related all that Edith had said during that 
memorable ride with Miss Holland, and the passive share 
which she herself had borne in the intrigue. 

Duke, although inexpressibly shocked, managed to 
control himself. It was easy enough to see that Ger- 
trude had been overruled by a stronger will than her 
own, and that her part was altogether secondary in the 
affair. It was a great deal, too, to find out, as he did, 
during the conversation, what sort of excuse and justifi- 
cation his sisters could make to themselves for a plot so 
nefarious that Duke was almost stunned with horror 


THE HOLLANDS. 


368 


when he thought that it had been concocted and executed 
in the bosom of his own family. 

He knew then how men and women feel when they 
learn first that some awful crime lies on the soul of one 
whom they have loved and cherished more than their 
own lives. Gertrude had made a clean breast of all she 
knew ; and it was clear, from her reply to some guarded 
questions about a letter of his to Miss Holland, that 
Gertrude, at least, knew nothing about one. 

“What letter, Duke? I never heard of one; neither, 
I am sure, did Edith.” 

He was glad enough to divert her thoughts from that 
topic. 

“And our mother knew and countenanced all that 
Edith did? She was willing — she desired Miss Hol- 
land to believe that lie ? ” 

A slow amazement and pain in his voice, that hurt 
Gertrude. She was naturally anxious to justify her 
mother. 

“ Mamma did not expect Edith would go so far, and 
was truly unhappy about it, especially since Miss Hol- 
land had her great trouble ; but you know how fond she 
always was of Margaret, and how she had set her heart 
on your coming together.” 

Duke would not say it to the daughter of her mother, 
but the thought flashed sternly across him : “ She had 
set her heart on the banker’s half million ! ” He knew, 
and perhaps, in her heart, Gertrude did. 

“Now I have told you all, and you will forgive me, 
Duke?” coming back to him after she had started to 


364 


THE HOLLANDS. 


leave the room, for the blaze had gone down in his eyes, 
and there was something in his look which troubled her. 

Of course there could be but one answer to that ; but 
there was something in the way in which he kissed her, 
which hurt Gertrude more than the look, and made her 
feel that her brother’s faith in her had had a terrible 
shock. With this feeling she burst into her mother’s 
room. “ 0 mamma, Duke has found out all about 
that affair of Miss Holland’s. Somebody has told him ; 
and I have had the most dreadful time downstairs for 
the last hour; he would not let me go until I had 
told all.” 

Mrs. Walbridge was thunderstruck. She tried to 
speak, but her limbs shook and her face was white. 

“Why did you not come to me at once, Gertrude?” 
she managed to say. 

“ I tried to ; but there was no getting away from him, 
mamma.” And then, looking up, they saw Duke at the 
door. 

“ Gertrude, I must see mamma all alone now.” 

And the girl went out, and the mother and the son 
were alone together. ' 

It was the most awful hour of Mrs. Walbridge’ s life. 
Its anguish and shame will haunt her memory to the day 
of her death. She stood face to face with her sin, and 
face to face with her son, and had to own the deception 
she had countenanced, the subterfuge she had connived 
at. This woman, whose life had been built on conven- 
tionalities and respectabilities, felt the foundations break- 
ing up beneath her. For the first time in her life, Mrs. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


365 


Walbridge lost faith in herself. Then, too, the humilia- 
tion was doublj keen and bitter, because it came to her 
through the one being whom she loved a little better 
than anything on earth ; whose love and reverence, too, 
were a little dearer to her heart than that of any other, 
though it were her husband or her daughters. 

And now Duke must learn that his faith in her had 
been betrayed, that his own mother had deceived him, 
and helped him to believe a lie, — a lie, too, which must 
work disappointment and mistake for all his future. 
This was the truth that went down into the core of the 
woman’s love and pride. 

Edith was not there to aid her mother, and Mrs. Wal- 
bridge was too cruelly agitated and perplexed to attempt 
many subterfuges. The whole affair, in which she had 
borne a conspicuous, if a somewhat passive, part, took to 
her now some new complexion and proportions. 

Yet, as Duke had dealt kindly with his sister, so he 
did with his mother ; more l&nderly, even, because he 
pitied her more. Still, for all that, he was resolute to 
sift the matter to the bottom. It is true, Mrs. Wal- 
bridge made feeble attempts to assert her dignity, to 
maintain that her relations to her son shielded her from 
the duty of replying to his questions. 

“You forget, Duke, that I am your mother; you 
question me as though I were some witness at the bar, 
whom you had a right to interrogate without mercy,” 
she sobbed, half hysterical, half indignant. 

“No, mother, it is precisely because you are my 
mother that I came to you, before going to any other 


866 


THE HOLLANDS. 


source, to know the whole truth. Do not compel me to 
seek it elsewhere. Let me have it from your own lips.” 

And at last he drew it all out. Mrs. Walbridge 
would have been glad to shield Edith, but the facts were 
against her. 

The night wore on. Duke walked the room, his face 
livid, his mother in her chair, white as himself, as the 
ugly truths one by one dragged themselves up to the 
light. The search for his letter, the reading it, the plot 
to destroy it, after substituting another in its stead, with 
the dreadful lie on top of all, so completely horrified the 
young man, that his wrath was held in check. 

“ Edith did not mean to wrong you, Duke; she had 
your best happiness in view ; but she, with the rest of 
us, was driven frantic by the thought that, after all 
our cherished plans and hopes, we were to lose Margaret, 
whom we had grown to regard as our daughter and sister. 
It was not, either, that we disliked Miss Holland. And 
since the poor girl's trouble came upon her, I have been 
a wretched woman, thinking of all these miserable things. 
We were bewildered by the suddenness of our discovery 
of your feelings, and driven to desperate means to pre- 
vent a consummation of our worst fears. It seemed, too, 
at the time, Duke, that we were doing what was for your 
own best good.” 

“ My best good ! To sacrifice my life in that way — 
to separate me by so cruel a deception from the woman I 
loved, and marry me to one whom I did not ! ” a strife 
between indignation and pain in his voice. 

Mrs. Walbridge murmured something about Margaret. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


367 


Duke stopped before her. “ Mother, he frank with 
your own soul. It is not Margaret, but Margaret’s 
money, that lies at the bottom of all this wrong and 
misery.” 

Mrs. Walbridge was dumb. At another time she 
would have denied this, but at that moment the truth 
struck home. Remorse and pain had made her con- 
science sensitive. She did not answer one word. She 
only sobbed to herself. And again Duke remembered 
she was his mother, and pitied her. 

At last, but that was long after midnight, there was 
no more to tell. How nearly the plot had succeeded, 
Duke Walbridge of all the world only knew. Sudden 
heats of anger had come upon him, and shaken or hard- 
ened his voice; then pity had melted him as he looked 
at his mother; then horror at the cruel wrong which 
would have blighted his life. 

When it was all over, he sat still a while, and then he 
rose up and went over to his mother, and the tears were 
in his eyes, and his voice sounded unutterably mournful : 
‘‘Mother, if I have forgotten at any time to-night the 
respect which I owe you, forgive me. It has been very 
hard to bear, but hardest of all has been the thought that 
the mother, whom I loved and trusted as I think few sons 
have ever done, has deceived and betrayed her boy, — 
could have so easily sacrificed the happiness of his life ; 
it is very hard to believe it yet. The pain is fresh now. 
I shall try to forgive it — but — but we will not say any 
more to-night.” 

Mrs. Walbridge writhed a moment, and buried her 


368 


THE HOLLANDS. 


face in her hands. The gentle, cruel words wounded so 
deeply, because of their truth. 

In her humiliation, the woman wished she could have 
died and been buried before she had driven her son to 
speak thus to her. But she did not reply ; she only sobbed 
in her chair. And Duke took her in his arms, and laid 
her tenderly on the lounge, and kissed her, and left her. 


There was no sleep for Duke that night. I think there 
was as little for his mother. Sometimes a wild joy 
flashed through him as he remembered that Jessamine 
Holland had never heard of his letter ; that the prospect 
of his suit was as fair now, as though that had never been 
■written ! 

But his joy even came and went in swift, hot throbs. 
Everything seemed unreal to him after what he had learned 
to-night ; underneath all, a passion of wrath against that 
elder sister who had been the prime mover in the whole 
intrigue. Her brain had plotted, and her arts had 
achieved, the whole. For his mother and Gertrude there 
was much to pity and excuse ; but for Edith, could he 
ever feel again that she was his sister ? He saw her steal- 
ing into his room, and reading his letter ; he saw her 
wheedling it out of the coachman, and quietly transferring 
it to the table ; a little later he saw her fair, exultant face 
bending over the flames where she had thrown it. He 
closed his eyes with a sudden loathing. It seemed to him 
that he never wanted to look on that face again to the day 
of his death ! 


THE HOLLANDS. 


369 


So the cold dawn at last came into his room, and again 
he fell into a heavy slumber that lasted for hours. 

Mrs. Walbridge was not at breakfast that morning. 
She had had a miserable, nervous night, her husband said, 
and enjoined upon his daughters not to 11 bother their 
mother with any of their nonsense that day.” 

It was quite evident that the gentleman had not the 
remotest suspicion of all that had transpired the night 
before. Mason Walbridge’ s acuteness lay in other direc- 
tions. 

After breakfast Duke went up to his mother’s room. 
She had just arisen, and the girl had brought in a letter 
with her mistress’ coffee. 

Duke saw at once that his mother was excited. She 
soon placed the letter in his hands. It proved to be one 
from Mrs. Ashburn, and it announced her niece’s engage- 
ment to a young man, of whom Margaret had sometimes 
spoken at their house, as a great favorite in her set; 
handsome, accomplished, the very beau-ideal of an elegant, 
courtly gentleman. Mrs. Ashburn had quite opened her 
heart to her old friend. “I had hoped, dear Hester,” 
she wrote, “ that your boy and my girl would unite our 
families in one ; but things do not usually turn out in this 
life after our pet hopes and fancies ; I learned that long 
ago. Margaret seems very happy in her choice, and her 
father is satisfied. The young man himself has all those 
qualities which would be likely to win the favor of a 
woman, as he is handsome, cultivated, agreeable, and his 
wealth, family, and position, are all we could desire for 
our darling.” 


370 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Duke laid down the letter, and the mother and son 
looked at each other. 

“ It is best as it is, Duke,” she said. “ Your way is 
open now, and as Jessamine Holland is your choice, go 
and win her.” 

“ Ah, mother, I should like to hear you say it in a 
different tone from that ! ” 

“ Sons are not apt to consult their mothers in choosing 
their wives ; hut I will be just at last, Duke. I know of 
no woman who is so well suited to you ; none, certainly, 
whom I believe more worthy to be your wife than the one 
you have chosen. I frankly avow that my prejudices 
have stood in the way of any very cordial feeling toward 
her on my part ; still, that was not Miss Holland’s fault 
— and — and” — a flush stole into the lady’s cheeks — 
“I should prefer that my future daughter-in-law should 
not be acquainted with some facts, which must of neces- 
sity he explained to her. That again is not her fault, 
Duke. You will at least remember, however deeply you 
may feel for her wrongs, that it is your mother and 
sisters whom you are to accuse.” 

Duke comprehended his mother’s feeling, and took in all 
the pain of his own position. It was a humiliation as keen 
as possible for the proud woman, to reflect that her son 
could not press his suit until the maiden of his wooing 
had first learned how darkly his family had plotted against 
both. 

“ Mother, I think you know you can trust me, and — 
and Jessamine Holland does not know the worst. She 
never will.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


3T1 


Mrs. Walbridge understood that he alluded to the letter 
which had been destroyed. Had the girl known that, and 
Mrs. Walbridge’s share in its destruction, it seemed to 
that lady she could never have looked her in the face — 
not even as Duke’s wife. 

Afterward she went on to say, that, as things had turned 
out, she was glad to hear of Margaret’s engagement. 

She little guessed what share her son had borne in pro- 
moting that, and no human being ever suspected that only 
one little moment had stood between Duke Walbridge’s 
asking Margaret Wheatley to be his wife. 


372 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

The following day, Duke Walbridge went over to the 
Kents again. A night and a day had calmed and strength- 
ened him. If the hopes did not sing about his heart like 
flocks of spring-birds, as they had sung one day long ago, 
it was not strange. The blackness of death had fallen 
upon Jessamine Holland since that time, and for himself 
he had passed through such awful shocks of knowledge, 
and loss, and grief, that the old, high bounding heart of 
love was slower now. 

Duke Walbridge was not going over to the Kents with 
any purpose beyond that of making a friendly call on Miss 
Holland. He found the family out, Mrs. Kent and Mrs. 
Bray having gone to drive, and Jessamine received him 
by herself, — a little smile flickering out of her lips and 
eyes as she welcomed him, that was like the old J essamine 
Holland, only the smile had such a background of 
sadness. 

“ To-morrow,” she said, with considerable animation, 
<c they have promised that I shall accompany them in their 
drive. It is such a very long time since I was last out 
doors. - It seems as though it must be years when I look 
back.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


873 


Her voice faltering, just as her lips did, over the last 
words. He knew what she was thinking of; but this 
morning neither spoke of Ross. Their hearts were too 
full of him. 

“ Your friends here, Miss Jessamine, give me nothing 
to do. I came over here, intending to allure you, if pos- 
sible, into a short drive with me to-morrow, and here, as 
usual, I. find myself anticipated.” 

“ You are all very good to me. I am not worth so 
much trouble,” she said, sorrowfully, to herself, as those 
are apt to feel whom some terrible blow has prostrated. 

Duke Walbridge did not reply. He had been wonder- 
ing all the way over to the Kents whether there would 
ever come a day on which he should be able to tell Jes- 
samine Holland that he loved her, when such a humiliating 
confession must form the preface of his story. What 
would she, the high-souled, true-hearted girl feel, when 
she came to know that foul deceit in which his mother had 
shared? Would not the scorn in those bright, sorrowful, 
rebuking eyes, make his lips dumb when his turn came to 
plead his own cause ? But as he looked at her that morn- 
ing, the pale, sweet face, with its loneliness, its youth, its 
sorrow, for the moment swept off every other thought, 
and, with a sudden impulse, not stopping to take counsel 
of judgment or discretion, Duke said. “ I read a letter 
yesterday morning, which contained some tidings that 
very much surprised me ; I think they would you, also, 
Miss Holland.” 

“ What was it, — pleasant news ? ” She had come to 
feel that all sudden news must be sad. 


374 


THE HOLLANDS. 


u Yes ; on the whole, I suppose engagements usually 
are.” 

“I suppose so; ” and then the poor child remembered 
one engagement that she had once learned suddenly, and 
that was anything else but “ pleasant” to her. 

Perhaps the shadow of this thought drifted into her 
face, for the young man hastened to say, “This letter 
was from Mrs. Ashburn to my mother, and announced the 
engagement of her niece, Margaret Wheatley, with one 
of the numerous suitors for her ‘hand; ” his words slow 
and distinct, watching the effect of every one. 

Jessamine Holland started, full of quick life now. 
Her eyes stared and strained at him ; her breath came in 
swift pants. “ How thoroughly they had deceived her ! ” 
thought Duke, a wave of indignation rushing over his 
soul. That she was dreadfully agitated, and, in her 
present weak state, scarcely able to control herself, was 
evident enough. 

£< Margaret Wheatley engaged? ” she said, slowly, put- 
ting her hand to her forehead. “ I thought — I thought 
• — they told me — ” then she turned and looked at him, 
something wild, hunted, appealing in her look, that he 
could not bear. 

“ I know what they told you ; ” his voice low and 
shaken. “ As God hears me, there was not one word of 
truth in it from beginning to end, Jessamine Holland ! ” 

He did not dare to look in her face. But he felt her 
shake all over, and then there came a little kind of choked, 
gasping cry from her lips ; very low, but it hurt him cruel- 
ly. Then her face went down in her hands. He waited 


THE HOLLANDS. 


375 


a moment for her to speak. She could not for her life ; 
and at last, feeling that the time was come, and still with 
his face turned away from her, he told his story, — how 
the heart of his family had long been set upon Margaret 
Wheatley, and he — stammering there, and blushing like 
a bashful g rl ; and how, at last, his sister Edith — God 
forgive her, for it seemed as though her brother never 
could — had devised a plot to utterly deceive J essamine 
Holland, and dragged her younger sister into the passive 
part which she had taken in the matter ; and how he had, 
at last, through Mrs. Kent’s intimation, unravelled the 
whole foul thing, with what amazement, indignation, and 
grief, he left Jessamine to conceive. 

She was silent, as though she had been turned to stone, 
while he talked ; but he knew somehow that she was taking 
in every word ; he knew, too, that such a story must be 
an awful shock to her native honor and truthfulness. He 
would not insult these by trying to smooth over the facts ; 
and the worst she would never know. There was his 
letter to her. One secret Duke Walbridge must hold 
from Jessamine Holland to the day of his death — hold it 
for his mother’s sake — it might be for Edith’s. 

She sat just as still a long time after he had finished. 
At last he looked up in her face. It was such a changed 
one, all moved, flushed, quivering with life and warmth. 
He was a lover — he could not help what he did next. 
He leaned over and touched her hand. “Jessamine,” 
he said, “are you glad, or sorry, to know this?” 

She tried to speak ; but, if any words came to her, they 
choked in her throat. A sudden happiness swelled and 


876 


THE HOLLANDS . 


thrilled at her heart, the blushes quivered into her face, 
she looked at him shyly, and a smile, her own little, 
childlike smile, brimming with joy and sweetness, came 
and nestled about her mouth. 

The sight mastered him. He leaned over the hand he 
held. “ Jessamine, you must understand why it was that 
my sister descended to take all this sin on her soul — 
that she went, with this dreadful lie on her lips, to the 
one woman whom she thought stood betwixt Margaret 
Wheatley and me.” 

“ 0 Duke ! ” It was a little, deprecating cry. She 
did not know what she said. 

More than that low cry would not have held him back 
now, with his soul at flood tide. 

“ I knew that you could not fail to understand what I 
meant that last morning that we passed together. When 
I came over to see you a day later, it was to place my 
fate in your hands ; and your refusal to see me convinced 
me that you had taken that most delicate, if most deadly, 
way of letting me know that my suit was in vain. I can- 
not talk of that time ; its bitterness only taught me what 
you had become to me, and — it drove me out West at 
last.” 

“ 0 Duke ! ” A low cry like the other, hut a little 
tenderness quivering through it. 

He heard it. “ Jessamine, if you had never heard that 
lie of Edith’s, and I had come and asked you that after- 
noon what was in my heart, should you have let me go 
away as I did? ” 

A little sobbing kind of sigh, but through it a tremulous 


THE HOLLANDS. 377 

whisper, that she did not mean to speak, but it breathed 
up from her heart to her lips. 

11 No, Duke.” 

Half an hour later, Mrs. Kent and Mrs. Bray returned 
from their ride. Was that the face they had left behind? 
Was that the white, settled thing they had been watching 
for the last month, fearing that the life was fading out of 
it ? Now a very morning radiance of joy possessed it. 
The life, and sparkle, and happiness, that shone in the 
quivering smile, in the shining eyes, seemed like a fresh 
miracle. 

Hannah Bray, with her blunt, honest homeliness, which 
at this time served better than anything finer, burst right 
out with, “ What has happened to you, my child ? ” 

And Jessamine — you must remember how joy as well 
as sorrow strains heart and nerve, and the one came for 
her close on the other — burst into tears. “ I am so 
happy, so happy! ” she sobbed. 

Then the two women looked at Duke, and understood. 

Mrs. Bray, the worn face all broken up with feeling, 
burst out, “ Come, young man, I see you’ve had her 
ear to yourself quite long enough this morning. You’d 
better go now, and leave her to get a little quiet. I know 
her of old, and about how much she can stand.” 

Duke sprang up with alacrity. “I will go at once; 
but you must make up your mind that I have some rights 
now, and intend to assert them by coming very soon 
again.” 

Mrs. Kent met him in the hall. He grasped both her 

hands. ;< 0 my friend, how shall I thank you for what 
32 


878 


THE HOLLANDS. 


you did to me that day ! I am the most indebted, as I 
am the very happiest of men ! ” 

“I always felt there was something wrong at the 
bottom/’ said the joyful little woman, fairly clapping her 
hands. “ I wish I could tell you, Mr. Walbridge, how 
sincerely glad I am — how much I congratulate you ! ” 

They went into the parlor together, and there — it was 
the lady’s right to know — he had to tell her the story he 
had told her friend. It was a second humiliation ; it 
dashed somewhat the brimming cup of his joy. 

“ Duke,” said Jessamine, timidly, the next day, when 
he sat by her side, — “ Duke, there is one question I want 
to ask you.” 

Really, I do not like to write the reply. It was a 
lover’s, and might not look so well on paper as some 
other things, even if they were not a whit more sensible. 
u Did your mother know — what — what was said to me 
that day in our ride? ” 

He bent his head, as reeds by rivers do when sudden 
storms of wind whirl over them. She was half sorry she 
had asked him, when she saw his pain ; but he had to tell 
the truth, softening and excusing wherever he could, and 
thinking all the time of how much lay behind. 

Then Jessamine Holland spoke like herself. u Ah, 
Duke, I forgot everything else yesterday, in the great 
happiness of knowing what I was to you ; but I could never 
enter a family where I was unwelcome as sister and daugh- 
ter. I could never be happy, feeling that I was the 
stranger who had brought pain and disappointment into 
their midst.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


379 


Duke tried to turn it off with a jest. “ Will you doom 
me to perpetual old bacherlorhood ? There would be no 
hope for Margaret and me now, if you did not exist.” 

There was no denying the force of this argument, yet 
that fact did not lessen the repugnance which Jessamine’s 
pride and self-respect both felt at the prospect of entering 
a family w'ho had plotted so long and deeply to keep her 
out of it. She knew, too, although she did not say it, 
knew just as well as Duke did, what lay at the bottom 
of their preference for Margaret Wheatley. 

Duke could not blame her. I think, in his secret soul, 
he honored Jessamine Holland for the feeling she avowed. 
It could not interfere with their new-found happiness, 
with the blissful knowledge that they two loved each 
other. That was a lifelong truth, before which the 
memory of all sorrows passed away, 1 1 as memories of 
storms that go down beyond horizons of summer days.” 

Even the thought of Ross could hardly cross with a 
shadow that present joy. It seemed to his sister that his 
voice came to her out of the dark and the distance, bidding 
her be happy in the love of his best friend. And she was, 
and the life and the youth came back to her face once 
more, and the spring-tides into her soul. 

One day Mrs. Walbridge came to her son, and said, 
“ Duke, I see that it has prospered with you. Tell me 
all.” 

He had waited for his mother to speak first. And now 
Duke told her all, even of Jessamine’s resolve never to 
force herself an unwelcome member into his family. 

That resolve broke down the last prejudice which Mrs 


380 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Walbridge had cherished against Jessamine Holland. 
She had her part to do now, and she did it well. She 
rode over to the Kents, and she took Jessamine Holland 
in her arms and kissed her. 1 ■ Come to us, my child, for 
Duke’s sake, and so we shall know you have forgiven us 
all; and that will be much.” 

The ladies parted closer friends than they had ever been 
before. One night had made a great difference with Mrs. 
Walbridge. There might not be any change to the world, 
but secretly she would never be just the woman she had 
been before that time. 

Edith learned first, through her mother, of the utter 
failure of her chef (T oeuvre of intrigue, and the dreadful 
recoil on herself. Whatever she felt, the front she carried 
was worthy, as I said, the women of the Court of Cath- 
arine of Medici, the pupil of Machiavel. 

“My plot has utterly miscarried, and I accept the 
facts,” she wrote. “ Duke, for whose sake I took so much 
pains, will probably curse me. That is usually the way, 
when people go too far to serve their friends. What is it 
Lady Waldermar says : — 

“‘We all do fail and lie, 

More or less — and I’m sorry — which is all 
Expected from us when we fail the most, 

And go to church to own it.’ 

“ Duke will have his country lassie now, and as I sup- 
pose Heaven intended them for each other, I wish him joy 
of her ; and good as I have proved myself at lying, per- 
haps he will believe me when I say I’ve honestly felt sorry 
for the girl sometimes, since she lost her brother, and 


THE HOLLANDS. 


881 


wished I’d not tried to interfere with Providecce, even 
when I thought half a million of dollars hung upon a few 
foolish lies ; for — let us be honest, mamma — that was 
really at the> bottom with us all. Jessamine Holland is 
as fit a wife for Duke as any young woman could possibly 
be who is poor. I can see the blackness of his face as he 
reads that; but sinners such as he holds me are des- 
perate, and a few words more or less make no difference . 19 

The letter closed with the announcement of Edith’s 
intention to accompany a party of friends to Havana to 
pass the winter. She drew very vivid pictures of gaye- 
ties and splendors to come ; but, with all her effrontery, 
the girl shrank from the thought of meeting the face of 
her brother, or of Jessamine Holland, for a while. And 
her mother’s approval of the journey, which in the Wal- 
bridge family meant that of most of the others, settled 
the matter. 


382 


THE HOLLANDS. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A couple of weeks had passed. One morning Duke 
Walbridge sat alone in his father’s private office, think- 
ing the thoughts of a young man, whose life and future 
are no longer solely his own. lie was full of hope, 
strength, ardor, now ; of dreams, work, and help for 
others. The moods and the discords seemed to have 
passed out of his life in these last weeks, which had 
brimmed with happiness for him, for Jessamine also. 

Each was wise enough to speak little of what was 
painful in the past ; but the present joy measured for 
both the depth of the old anguish. Once or twice, in 
some little pause, when she sat by his side, Jessamine 
had caught hold of Duke’s arm with a sudden movement 
of terror : “ 0 Duke, I thought once I had lost you, — 
lost you forever for this world ! ” 

Those words and that movement showed him all she 
had suffered ; and that thought always hardened his heart 
toward Edith, toward his mother even, as the memory 
of his own anguish never did. 

But, even though some shadows must tremble among 
Jessamine’s joy, still, how great the blessedness was, you 
had only to look into her face to know. The pale pink 


THE HOLLANDS. 


383 


glow had come to her rounded cheeks, and her eyes shone 
out of their old, bright depths. 

As for Mrs. Kent, she was as happy as an impulsive, 
Warm-hearted, sympathetic young matron could possibly 
be over the happiness of her dearest friend. And Mrs. 
Bray had won a promise from Duke to bring Jessamine 
up to her old home for at least a week next summer, and 
returned herself, the true, warm heart, under the homely 
face, content for her foster-child. 

At his own home everything went smoothly. Eva 
was fairly wild with joy over the prospect of having 
Jessamine Holland for a sister-in-law, and, hanging 
about her brother as usual, said, ‘ 1 1 always knew she 
was the right one for you, Duke. Oh, I am so 
glad ! ” 

As for Gertrude and Kate, their dislike had been 
merely stimulated by others, and as soon as Margaret 
Wheatley’s engagement had transpired, the girls, who 
really were attached to Jessamine Holland, were quite 
willing Duke should follow his own tastes. 

So, indeed, was his father, who had a lurking feel- 
ing that his son had been badly treated by the banker’s 
daughter, and endeavored to console what he fancied 
must be his wife’s keen disappointment. 

“The money was a good thing, no doubt, my dear, 
but I dare say the boy is well quit of it. I’ve often ob- * 
served that men who marry a fortune seldom get much 
comfort from it.” 

“Mr. Walbridge,” said his wife, wincing under this 
talk, “I am sorry to find that you think me governed 


884 


THE HOLLANDS. 


entirely by mercenary motives. If our son is happy, I 
am satisfied. 7 ’ 

There was an astonishing discrepancy betwixt this talk 
and some that Mr. Walbridge had listened to a long time 
ago in that very room. He was silent, however, think- 
ing that his wife’s pride and affection had both been 
wounded by Margaret’s conduct, and that this fact had 
affected the change in her sentiments. So little did the 
man suspect the drama that had gone on in his own 
household. That very day his eldest daughter had sailed 
for Cuba, — a trip that, despite all her mother’s influence, 
he had never cordially approved. 

“ Walbridge ! ” 

Not a loud voice, just behind him, as Duke sat there 
at his father’s desk, but one which seemed to echo away 
down from distant slopes of the years. He sprang up 
and turned around. There the speaker stood, a rather 
stout, youngish man, with a face darkly browned by for- 
eign suns, a thick beard. 

Duke stared, and for the moment did not recognize the 
stranger. But, as the latter stretched out both his hands, 
some strong feeling came into his eyes. 

The voice, the eyes, flashed over Duke; his face 
turned white as a dying man’s ; he leaned back against 
the wall. “ Ross Holland ! Ross Holland ! ” staring at 
the figure, as he would upon a risen ghost. “ 0 my 
God ! ” 

Duke spoke that name hot irreverently ; but as we all 
may, turning in the human anguish of an awful joy or 


THE HOLLANDS. 


385 


sorrow to the eternal Love and Power, greater than 
ourselves. 

“ Yes, it is I, whole and sound ; although I came close 
enough to making a meal for the fish in the Indian Sea. 
Ah, Walbridge ! don’t stare at me like that; give me a 
welcome, old fellow.” 

Then, at last, — what would Eva have said at such a 
scene between two men ? — Duke actually took the stout 
figure in his arms and hugged and kissed it ; hut all he 
could say, was, the tears running over his cheeks, “ 0 
Ross Holland ! Ross Holland ! ” 

Young Holland was as much overcome as his friend. 
He returned the hugging in earnest. “ Old fellow, — 
it’s good to see you ! ” he sobbed. 

“ But I thought you were dead ! ” cried Duke, hold- 
ing the other out at arm’s-length, and laughing and cry- 
ing together, and not even ashamed of himself. 

“ So did I,” answered Ross. “ But you see I wasn’t. 
I’m good for a strong tussle yet with fate.” 

“And Jessamine. It will kill her, Ross, — the joy 
will kill her ! ” 

“ I was afraid of that. When we got into New York 
I learned the shipwreck had gone over the country ; so I 
didn’t telegraph, but I took the next train, and made a 
rush from the depot to find you, and to decide how I 
should make myself known to her.” 

“ Sit down a moment, my dear fellow, so my eyes can 
look at you while we make our plans.” 

But it was impossible to sit still. Both were excited, 
and one so hungry for a sight of his sister. In a few 
33 


886 


THE HOLLANDS. 


words the young man related the main facts of his ship- 
wreck. The vessel went to pieces in the terrific storm. 
For a day and two nights Ross had clung to a raft, 
swift, black waves going over and slowly drowning the 
life out of him; torturing thirst and gnawing hunger 
making him almost long to die ; and at last his memory 
went down in blank unconsciousness. There were three 
others on the raft with himself, and all made up their 
minds that they saw the sun rise for the last time, when 
it came up and found them still on the raft the second 
morning. But before noon a brig came in sight. Sig- 
nals brought her to their help. When Ross was lifted 
into the vessel, the men doubted whether it were not 
a dead man’s body whom they took on board. But 
prompt and diligent care soon brought signs of life, 
and Ross woke up to find he was in the world once 
more. 

The brig which had rescued Ross and his companions 
was a French vessel from China, bound for Havre. They 
had a slow, stormy passage. Ross reached port just in 
time to seize the next steamer for America, so no let- 
ters could be despatched in advance of himself. Late 
the night before he had landed on his native shores. 

“Those awful days and nights on the raft in that 
black sea ! They seemed longer than all the rest of my 
life ! ” and Ross shuddered. 

“ Poor fellow ! ” Duke’s hand on his shoulder. 

“ I thought of J essamine, and what she would do with- 
out me ! And then I thought of you, and of that last 
promise you made me. I could trust you entirely, and 


THE HOLLANDS. 


387 


yet do your best you could not quite be her brother, 
Duke.*’ There were tears in his eyes. 

“ No ; ” a smile coming into his face. “ I tried thal 
Ross, and it wouldn’t go. I found that Jessamine Hob 
land could not be my sister. ” 

“ Why not ? What do you mean ? ” asked Ross, quite 
bewildered. 

“ I mean that you and I are to be brothers, Ross.” 

In a moment the young man understood. It was the 
happiest hour of Ross’s life. They wrung each other’s 
hands until both shoulders ached. 

“ There is nothing in the world could have given me 
so much joy,” said Ross, over and over. “ Is it so ? ” 
“Ask Jessamine, if you doubt my word,” laughed 
Duke. 

“ Come, we must start this minute. There’s no time 
to be lost ; only, Duke, tell me, how did she bear the tid- 
ings when they came? ” 

“It well-nigh killed her, Ross ! ” 

“ I knew it would — my poor darling ! ” 

“I was out West at the time. I hurried straight 
back. That was before — I found her looking as though 
she would soon go in search of you. Ah, Ross, I had 
learned long ago what she could not be to me, by the 
measure of what she could ! One day, not meaning to 
tell her, sitting by her side, it all came out. Since then 
she has grown herself again.” 

And that was all Ross ever knew of the long darkness 
which had fallen into the lives of both, and of the plot 
of which each had so long been the victim. 


388 


THE HOLLANDS. 


It was settled that Duke should ride out to the Kents 
with his friend, and in some measure, if possible, pre- 
pare Jessamine for what was to come. So the lover and 
brother, equally impatient, sprang into a carriage and 
drove away. 

It was a fortunate circumstance that Mrs. Kent hap- 
pened to be in the front hall that morning as Duke Wal- 
bridge entered it. The lady came forward to greet him 
and his friend, fancying, from his bronzed complexion, 
that the latter was some old travelling companion of 
young Walbridge’s. 

As soon as the lady had ushered her guests into the 
parlor, Duke took her hand, saying, “ Can you bear a 
great and joyful surprise, my dear Mrs. Kent? ” 

“ I hope so ; ” looking from one gentleman to the other 
in amazement. 

“ Then let me introduce to you now this gentleman, — 
my friend, and Jessamine’s brother, Mr. Ross Holland.” 

At that name she turned white, and staggered against 
a chair. Both the gentlemen had no easy time to calm 
her, for amazement and joy threw her almost into 
hysterics. 

But at last she could hold Ross Holland’s hand in her 
own, and gaze at the brown, bearded face through her 
tears. Then she started and cried, “There is Jessa- 
mine. If it should come too suddenly, it must kill her.” 
And she glanced toward the door in a fright. 

“ Where is she ? ” whispered Duke. 

“ Upstairs, in the sitting-room. But she is liable to run 
down any moment. Somebody must go to her at once.” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


389 


“I will,” answered Duke. “You stay here, Ross, 
with Mrs. Kent, and I will try and prepare her.” 

Great was Jessamine Hollands amazement to see her 
friend enter the sitting-room unannounced. 

“ You see I am quite at home here ; ” taking a seat by 
her, and explaining how he had met Mrs. Kent in the 
hall, and she had sent him upstairs, where he would 
find Miss Holland. 

Then he went on to say, “ Now I am certain you 
are curious to know what can have brought me over 
here at this unconscionable hour of the morning.” 

“ A little, I confess. Are you ready to tell me? ” 

“ Nothing bad, at least.” 

“ I saw that by your face.” 

But his heart beat so loud at his throat, that he 
actually had to stop here and go to talking of other 
matters. 

At last he made a fresh attempt. “Jessamine, you 
and I do not talk of — of our brother.” 

“No; ” the sweetness of her face going down in sor- 
row. “ There is no need, when we always think of 
him.” 

“ There is a question I would like to ask you about 
him.” 

“ Don’t be afraid, Duke.” 

“ Has it ever, in the remotest way, occurred to you 
that — that there was a slight chance he might be 
alive?” 

He felt her start and quiver all over. 

“ Ross alive ! Duke ! ” 


890 


THE HOLLANDS. 


He took her hand. “ Be quiet, now, my dear girl. 
I only mean to say that I have sometimes entertained 
some hopes. You know that in a shipwreck people are 
often saved, and come to light long after they are given 
over for dead. Ross was a wonderful swimmer, and 
could keep above water where most men would go down.” 

“But why have you never told me this before. 
Duke?” 

“I feared to awaken false hopes, Jessamine; but I 
have just learned some facts which give me a hope — ” 

She was off her feet in an instant, clutching at his 
arm, the wild, hungry look in her eyes. 

“ A hope that Ross is living ! You know something, 
Duke — I see it in your face ! ” 

She was trembling all over. 

“ There, dear child, be calm, or I shall not dare go on.” 

She sat down then; and though she shook in every 
limb, and her lips were very white, she said, “ I will. 
Go on.” 

It was hard for Duke, with those eyes on his face, 
thinking who was below stairs all the while; but he 
managed to say, “I saw a person who was on the ship- 
wrecked vessel. He knew Ross ; and it was his opinion 
that he did not go down with the others.” 

“ 0 my God, my God ! ” in just the way Duke had 
said it before that morning. 

She wrung her hands. The tears poured down her 
cheeks. Then her hungry eyes went up to Duke’ 3 face 
again. “Where is this person? There is something 
more than you tell me, Duke ! ” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


891 


“ If you would not look at me, and tremble like this, 
Jessamine ! It frightens me.” 

“There, now, tell me.” Ashen white she put both 
her hands in his. “ Tell me,” she said again. 

“ I have seen the person. I have brought him here — 
and — and — ” 

Not his words, but someth. ng in his face, struck her. 
“Had he seen Ross?” she cried out, sharply. 

And Duke did not dare answer, and then she knew. 

In an instant, and with a shriek that reached the 
listening people below, she tore herself away from him. 
She rushed along the stairs, and Duke, following after, 
shouted to her to come back. 

“ Run ! run ! ” screamed Mrs. Kent to Ross. 

But it was too late. Before he could turn, Jessamine 
bounded into the room. She saw the brown, bearded 
stranger who stood there, and he saw the little sister 
whom he had left six long years before, in the shadow 
of Hannah Bray’s veranda ; and the face, a little riper 
and maturer, wore still the old charm and sweetness 
which he had carried in his heart over sounding seas, and 
amid hot Indian jungles, in the silences of the desert and 
amid the thick swarms of foreign cities, — the face that 
had been a guardian angel about him, keeping his 
thoughts sweet and his life pure amid fierce temptations ; 
the face that always seemed close by him in his prayer 
at night, — the old boyhood’s prayer for himself and her ; 
— the face that he had not forgotten when he cried to 
God out of the great peril of the deep. At the sight of 
it now, turned up to him in its white agitation, the young 


392 


THE HOLLANDS. 


man’s long self-control utterly broke down. He put out 
bis arms with ,a cry : “ 0 Jessamine, my sister ! ” 

One long, sobbing shriek of passionate doubt and joy, 
and she sank into her brother’s arms, and was gathered 
up a white heap to his heart. 

The joy did not kill her. Three or four evenings 
later, the three, with Mr. and Mrs. Kent, were all 
assembled in the parlor, as happy a company as one 
could often find together in this world, — the happiest 
face of all, that of Jessamine Holland, which three of 
the four actually thought the most beautiful thing in the 
world ! They had been talking in a light, merry vein, 
as people do whose hearts brim over with deep feeling. 
J essamine sat before the two young men, feasting her 
never-sated eyes on her brother. 

“ You dear boy, those Indian suns have made dread- 
ful work with your complexion ! ” she said. 

“ It was the sea, more than the sun. But it makes 
very little difference. When a fellow comes home, after 
half-a-dozen years’ absence, and finds somebody else has 
stepped as snugly into his shoes as you have into mine, 
Walbridge, he isn’t apt to feel very much the loss of his 
complexion. Mine, at the best, was never much to 
boast of.” 

“Yes, it was. Ask Hannah Bray,” replied Jessa- 
mine, who was laughing, and glowing a good deal over 
her brother’s personal remarks. 

Boss, who always enjoyed a joke mercilessly, pursued 
the subject. “Ah, little sister, do you remember how 
often you have promised never to love anybody so well as 


THE HOLLANDS. 


393 


your brother ; and do you remember, too, the cottage we 
were to have ? Alas, for the frailty of a fellow’s hopes ! 
For six years, under blazing Indian suns, that cottage 
was before me, — the goal of all my future. It went 
down into my dreams at night, and rose with me in the 
morning, and I’ve come home at last to find it was all 
moonshine.” 

“No, it was not,” answered Duke, coming to Jessa- 
mine’s rescue. “ The cottage is a fixed fact in the 
future, veranda and balconies, shrubberies and all. And 
Ross Holland is to be the most important member of the 
household under its roof.” 

Then Jessamine broke out, playfully: “ How in the 
world can I ever have the care of two such big fellows on 
my hands? It’s an awful responsibility.” 

“ I’m coming to help you, dear, as often as I can coax 
my husband into granting me leave of absence,” added 
Mrs. Kent. 

“ If that’s all, you will see her very often,” rejoined 
the gentleman; “for she has a way of coaxing me into 
everything she wants.” 

“ It strikes me, at this moment,” continued Ross, 
“ that the very best thing I can do is to follow Jessa- 
mine’s example. Ah, Walbridge, if that little sister of 
yours, whose withered flowers I kept all these years for her 
sake and yours, were only a little older ! But I can wait.” 

“I wish you joy of the waiting, Holland; and there 
is just one man in the world to whom I could willingly 
give up my little Eva. She has been able to talk of 
nothing in the world but yourself since your return; 


894 


THE HOLLANDS. 


and once she sorrowed over you as did only Jessamine 
and I. You are all invited there to-morrow to dinner, 
as you know.” 

So the talk went, gayly oftenest, and sometimes 
grave; and Jessamine, listening, thought there was one 
thing more in the world, that would make her exquisitely 
glad, and that was, if her little favorite could ever be 
what Duke had said. She had never thought of this 
before ; but she knew Ross and Eva thoroughly, and it 
struck her now how singularly, in many respects, they 
were adapted to each other. 

In the midst of all these things, company called on the 
host and hostess; so the three young people were left 
alone together. 

“ Ross, you have written to Hannah Bray? ” 

“Yes; this morning. I promised to run up for a 
couple of days next week, if you could possibly be pre- 
vailed on to spare me ! ” 

“You shall take me along, Ross. Dear, faithful old 
heart ! How it will bound at the sight of you ! ” 

Duke was silent a long time, looking from the sister 
to the brother; at last Ross said, “Well, Walbridge, 
what are you thinking? ” 

“ Shall I tell him, Jessamine? ” getting up and going 
to the girl, and laying his hand on her shoulder. 

“Yes.” 

“ I was thinking of these words, and, setting them apart 
from all others, of the tender, and beautiful, and sacred 
meanings which ought to lie in them for every man, 4 The 
woman whom Thou gavest to be with me! ’ ” 


THE HOLLANDS. 


395 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

Amid all the happiness which brimmed over the golden 
lim of these days for Duke Walbridge, he was haunted 
by the thought of the banker’s young under-clerk, whose 
crime had interposed between himself - and that one 
moment which Duke could hardly contemplate without a 
shudder, thinking always more of Jessamine than of 
himself. 

It was singular, and yet hardly to be wondered at, when 
one thinks how his fate in the banker’s splendid parlor, 
with the beautiful daughter beaming at his side, had hung 
on an instant, that Duke Walbridge, being the man he 
was, felt a profound sympathy for that young boy, whose 
evil deed had wrought his own great happiness. It came 
upon him, too, sometimes, with awful force, how Edith’s 
plot, rash and bold as it was wicked, and impossible to suc- 
ceed as he should have deemed it in another’s case, had 
barely failed of a triumphant issue in his own. He saw, 
too, how the fatal words, having once been spoken, and he 
Margaret Wheatley’s accepted and acknowledged lover, 
there was not the smallest probability that either J essa- 
mine or himself would ever have learned the plot, of which 
each had been made the dupe. 


390 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Mrs. Walbridge and her elder daughters must have 
been haunted at times by an under consciousness, anything 
but pleasant, of the means which they had employed to reach 
the golden goal of Margaret Wheatley’s hand ; but a con- 
fession, which would only overwhelm them with shame and 
involve cruel wrong to three others when too late to repair 
it, would never have entered their minds. 

There were plenty of arguments, too, which would fur- 
nish more or less self-justification to all concerned in 
bringing about Duke’s marriage. 

As for his own share in the matter, he saw clearly 
enough how that must have gone. 

Once Margaret Wheatley’s affianced husband, con- 
science and honor, as well as his own peace of mind, 
would have influenced him to make the best of the facts ; 
to forget as far as possible his love and his disappoint- 
ment. 

* 

All this would have been cordially promoted by his 
family ; and the knowledge of the delight which his choice 
afforded to all those whom he lov^ed best could not have 
been without its effect upon him. 

His affections were vital things ; but a brave soul always 
girds itself to front the inevitable. Duke Walbridge was 
not the man to go through life miserable, because a woman 
whom he loved had rejected him ; but, for all that, 
the pain must have gone to the quick, and its secret state 
would have driven him desperate, — impelled him to con- 
summate matters at once; and his family, dreading the 
possibility of awkward developments, would have been 
equally desirous of the happy finale. “ All for Duke’s 


THE HOLLANDS. 


39T 


good, ” each would have told the other, and more or less 
believed it. 

Before that time there would, no doubt, have been the 
splendid wedding, the glitter and gorgeousness, the 
array of bridal gifts; and Duke Walbridge would have 
been the envied husband of the banker’s beautiful heiress. 

Always at the end of this shining perspective, which 
haunted Duke’s soul in solitary hours of the night and 
day, there stood a vague, young, mournful figure, the one 
which had interposed between him and that moment in 
which he was ready for the fatal leap, — 11 the figure of 
a criminal; but his good angel, for all that,” Duke 
thought. 

So his curiosity and interest grew ; side by side with 
them in his thought and heart, a yearning desire to serve 
in some way, the unhappy stranger of whom he knew so 
little and so much. 

The result was, that one morning Duke made up his 
mind to go to New York for a day or two. What he 
should do, when he got there, he left circumstances to 
determine. 

He found on the train Ross Holland, who came up to 
the Kents every spare moment that he had. The hadies 
were there also, having driven over with him to the train. 
Great was the surprise of the trio on seeing Duke enter, 
duly equipped with carpet-bag and overcoat. 

He explained briefly that some business was taking him 
off, for a day or two, to the city ; and a few moments of 
merry talk and jest ensued before the bell rang, and tho 
adieux had to be spoken. 


308 


THE HOLLANDS. 


In the midst of these, as the gentleman handed the 
ladies from the ears, a thought struck J essamine that she 
was blessed above most women in such a brother, and such 
a lover, and then a swift memory leaped upon her of the 
time, not long ago, when both were lost to her. 

She turned upon the young men her last smile, but she 
did not know that its unutterable tenderness was burdened 
with the awful memory at her heart, and that both brother 
and lover saw, as though she had spoken ; and for a long 
time after they resumed their seats each was silent, 
thinking of that look with which Jessamine had smiled 
her good-by. 

At last the prospective brothers-in-law fell to talking, 
comparing notes of the different parts of the world each 
had seen. 

Ross was full of stories of life in India, vigorous and 
racy. Duke wondered how the fellow had kept so alert 
and keen during those long years, no sign of rust in 
thought or wit, and at last, he said to young Holland, 
“ I always supposed the most people could do, was to keep 
up life at all in that hot, sleepy peninsula ; but you seem 
to have been keen on the scent with books and people, as 
though you’d been braced up in New England all this 
time.” 

Ross laughed. “ It was hard work, though, rowing 
against wind and tide, but I wouldn’t let the helm go. 

Tim truth was, Walbridge, I saw what lazy, sleepy, 
bilious nabobs the climate turned out of the foreign resi- 
dents in the course of a few years, and I said to myself, 
1 Young man, look sharply to what wits you’ve got. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


399 


Don’t you go to lounging and mooning like the rest of 
’em ; but just stick to your books all your spare hours, 
as you used to in the little law-office, so that when you go 
back, you won’t be such a “ John-a-dreams,” your sister 
will blush for you : ’ and I did it through thick and thin 

11 As for society, there was no lack of that; rather a 
surfeit, you see, what with the English and American 
residents.” 

“ What grit there must be in the Holland grain ! ” ex- 
claimed Duke, looking affectionately at his friend, who 
laughed and said he should repeat “that ambiguous 
compliment and mixed metaphor to Jessamine.” 

Through all the journey, Duke felt some doubts lest he 
had started off on a very Quixotic errand. The whole 
matter to himself was one of feeling, rather than of 
judgment. “ How would it look in the eyes of any dis- 
interested, sensible man, like Ross here, for instance ? ” he 
wondered, a sudden impulse coming over him to tell the 
object of his journey to his friend, suppressing, of course, 
that part which concerned himself and Margaret Wheat- 
ley. 

Ross, at the core of him, was one of the softest-hearted 
fellows in the world ; but he had his theories cut and dried, 
and they were a young man’s, and partook also of tho 
original “setness” of his character. 

His residence in India, also, had gone far to confirm 
his creed. He could not fail to see there a great deal of 
the worst side of human nature, its cowardice, baseness, 
vileness. Ross brought every instance to his own rule, 
and squared it there. He held that honor must be native 


400 


THE HOLLANDS. 


and absolute with men. If a soul slipped once, there waa 
small hope of its getting on its feet again, and staying 
there. 

Young Holland listened silently, losing no word of 
his friend’s story ; and when his answer came, it was part- 
ly of the heart, partly of the creed. 

“ You are a grand fellow, Duke, and it doesn’t come 
easy to me to throw cold water on a generous act. But 
I fear it’s all time and trouble thrown . away. If this 
young fellow had had moral backbone, he wouldn’t have 
gone down so easily. 

“I’ve seen something of human life in the last half- 
dozen years, you know, and if the taint is in the blood 
and marrow, why, there it is — sure to come out, like 
any disease. Set such people on their feet, and down 
they’ll go again, over and over — not spine enough to 
stand upright.” 

“ Very likely Ross had the best of it,” Duke thought. 
Then he remembered all he had held back from his friend, 
and that might have modified this reply. 

In the noise and crowd of the depot where the young 
men parted half an hour later, Ross wished his friend 
“ God speed,” hoping the boy would prove an exception to 
his class ; but Duke saw that Ross had very little faith in 
the result. 

It was late in the afternoon ; but young Walbridge hur- 
ried at once to the banker’s office. One of the head clerks, 
whom the former knew, had been detained that evening. 
After a little brief talk on general topics, Duke managed 
to introduce the subject which alone interested him. 


THE HOLLANDS. 


401 


“ Oh, you mean Barclay ! ” said the clerk, slipping hia 
pen behind his ear. “ A good-hearted, well-meaning lit- 
tle fellow as ever lived, but no experience, and the city 
proved too much for him — bad company — debts, and 
went down in the maelstrom ; old story, you know ; ” and 
the man shook his head. “ One must make examples. 
Paid for his crime dearly though ; shut up in the Tombs 
all this time, awaiting his trial.” 

“What! hasn’t that come off yet?” asked Duke, 
amazed. He had supposed the boy had long since been 
sentenced, and was serving out his time in the State’s 
Prison. 

It proved, however, on further inquiry, that there had 
been, to use the clerk’s phrase, “some hitch in getting 
hold of the right witnesses,” so that the boy, after his ex- 
amination, had been detained in the Tombs. 

“Matters were in the right train now,” to quote the 
clerk again, and the trial was expected to come off the 
day after to-morrow. 

These were substantially all the facts which Duke 
elicited from the clerk. He left the office resolved to call 
at the Tombs the next morning. 

Of the two hours next day, in that bare, solitary room 
with its barred windows, where the young life that had 
miscarried itself so fatally had been imprisoned for all 
these months, it would almost take another book to tell 
fairly. Duke Walbridge and Tom Barclay know, and that 
is enough; but neither of these will ever be likely to say 
much about it. 

Duke found a small, wiry youth, with pale yellow hair. 

34 


402 


THE HOLLANDS. 


and a dawn of yellow beard m his chin ; a good face 
enough, pale with long confinement and trouble. What- 
ever boldness and evil were latent there, the years would 
have to confirm. 

A gust of pity swept over young Walbridge, which for 
the time bore down all the doubts and fears of his better 
judgment, as the two whose lines had so mysteriously 
crossed each other stood alone in the dark, bare, silent 
Tombs. 

Of course the boy meant to be on his guard. His coun- 
sel, such as he had been able to employ, had warned him 
about that, but his solitude and loneliness had borne very 
heavily on him, and he had so very few friends, while 
Duke’s personal magnetism made the impression on 
Tom Barclay that it did on most people. 

The whole miserable story from beginning to end was 
gone over. It is so very common as not to possess one 
striking feature. The new city life, the inadequate salary, 
the small debts incurred here and there, the first attempts 
at gambling, the gains and the losses ; the little debts 
swelling into a large aggregate, the demands of creditors, 
the despair and desperation, and, at last, the only door out 
of them, which opened so easily, and which it seemed 
would open so readily for the boy to return again, — the 
door of crime. 

“ If I had only died ! If I had only died ! ” moaned 
the boy, rocking himself back and forth, his face in his 
hands. 

Duke looked at the poor fellow with unutterable sym- 
pathy, yet he felt that, if there was any hope for this 


THE HOLLANDS. 


408 


boy's future, the ploughshare must go now to the roots of 
his life, apd he must not spare for the writhing and the 
agony. “ Had you nobody who loved you ? ” he asked ; 
“no mother or sister to whom the knowledge of your 
crime would be worse than that of your death?” 

The boy looked up ; something like a gleam of joy came 
into the haggard face. “ I had a sister,” he said, “ three 
years younger than I ; she was all I had in the world, and 
I was her love and pride. She was a sweet, gentle, trust- 
ing little thing, and she died three months before this 
happened. 0 Ruth ! Ruth ! it would have killed you 
if you had known it ! ” 

The next morning Duke called at the banker’s office. 
He was by no means a stranger to the large, pleasant 
room, with its dark walnut panellings, and its great sub- 
stantial office table, and chairs in oak and green morocco. 

He found the owner here, an elderly man, with a kind 
of Roman head and sparse gray hair, portly, prosperous, 
and patronizing ; a man about the age of Duke’s father, 
and a good deal after his type. Young Walbridge w r as 
always certain of a cordial welcome at the banker’s. 
After the two had gone around the circle of personal and 
family topics, Duke, fearing some interruption, for time 
was precious on both sides now, at once opened his errand. 

At the first mention of Tom Barclay’s name the 
elder gentleman knit his gray brows and stroked his tufts 
of whiskers in anything but an encouraging manner, for 
his former office-boy. Yet he listened courteously, but 
Duke saw, wholly sceptical, to the end. 

Yet the elder was not in the worst sense a hard-hearted 


404 


THE HOLLANDS. 


man. He had, it is true, no profound faith in human na- 
ture, his experience not tending to develop that; but 
that he was just and honorable everybody who had deal- 
ings with the banker admitted. 

“ Duke,” — when the younger paused, — “ you are my 
friend, and so I’d gladly oblige you by letting this young 
scamp go scot-free ; but in the end it would be doing you 
and him no favor. 

“You are a soft-hearted fellow, and young Barclay has 
come round you with the pathetic dodge. You cannot make 
rotten timber sound, sir. When you’ve lived as long as 
I have, you’ll find that out. I honor the motive which 
has sent you here on the fellow’s behalf ; but he did a 
dishonest act with eyes wide open, and there is no use in 
bolstering him up. He’ll be sure to go down again, and 
we owe it to society to let the law take the fangs out of 
him.” 

Duke had foreseen this line of argument. That it 
was largely true he was ready to admit, and having con- 
ceded so much to the riper wisdom of his friend, he pro- 
ceeded with his own view of the case. 

Of course it would be quite impossible to go over with 
that two hours’ talk between the elderly man and the 
younger one. Had Duke pleaded Tom Barclay’s cause 
less eloquently, or had he been at bottom less a favorite 
with the banker, he would never have carried his point. 

There was some force in Duke’s reasoning, that the 
long time in which the boy had been in the Tombs await- 
ing his trial, was, in itself, no small punishment. “ At 
any rate, my dear sir,” Duke entreated, “give me a 


THE HOLLANDS. 


405 


chance to try the hoy. It is, as you say, an experiment, 
and it may prove a worthless one. I will risk it, not 
for the boy’s sake, but for my own. Give me a chance 
for his life.” 

“ Well, Duke, my boy, you’ve put it in the only way 
to carry w T eight with me ; but the young scoundrel de- 
serves no pity. Such a barefaced crime too ! How in 
the world did he happen to get hold of you ? ” 

Duke wavered a moment, and then thought the truth 
was best, so far as he had told it to Ross Holland. 

“ The facts are, I was at your house on the evening of 
the boy’s arrest, and had the whole story from Marga- 
ret’s lips. It has haunted me ever since, and yesterday 
I learned, to my surprise, that this boy, still in the Tombs, 
awaited his trial. I visited him there, for the first and 
only time, yesterday morning.” 

The banker was more astonished than ever. “Had 
the story from Margaret,” he repeated. “Was that all 
you knew of him ? ” 

“ That was all, Mr. Wheatley.” 

The banker mused a moment, and then he spoke : 
“ Well, Duke, you are a good fellow, and, for your sake, 
I will make a fool of myself. The boy shall have an- 
other chance ; but mind what I say now, — he will abuse 
it by getting into another scrape.” 

“Oh, thank you, thank you, sir! If young Barclay 
makes a second slip, and I feel by no means secure of 
him, you will, at least, remember that for one day you 
made me a happy man.” 

And the two men grasped hands warmly. 


406 


THE HOLLANDS. 


Afterward there were details to be arranged. Duke 
had learned all the broad bearings of Thomas Barclay’s 
case. There was one witness whose testimony would be 
vital in the matter, and without which his crime could 
not be brought home to the prisoner. 

The banker could with ease secure the absence of this 
witness, and with good counsel on his side the acquit- 
tal of Tom Barclay before judge and jury would be 
assured. 

11 Capital fellow, that Duke Walbridge ! ” murmured 
the banker, as the young man left the office; “ should 
have preferred him vastly to any other young man for a 
son-in law ; but fathers and daughters’ choices of hus- 
bands do not usually correspond;” fancying Margaret 
must have had the matter entirely in her own hands. 

“ Ah, my dear sir, if it had not been for this Tom 
Barclay, shut up in the Tombs, you would for a dead cer- 
tainty have been my father-in-law,” thought Duke to 
himself, as he left the office. 11 What would you say if 
you knew it was gratitude for my escape from that honor 
which led me to take all this trouble? ” 

Duke felt almost, for the moment, as though he had 
taken some underhand advantage of the old man’s friend- 
ship ; but, after all, his conscience was clean, and with 
this reflection he started at once in quest of a lawyer. 


Six months have passed. It is just at that time when 
May and June meet together, and the earth has adorned 
herself with the fresh glory of leaves and blossoms, and 


THE HOLLANDS. 


407 


the very air is solemn with incense, and the sky above is 
holy with smile and blessing over the bridal of spring 
and summer. 

In the little alcove parlor at Mrs. Kent’s, Jessamine 
Holland sits alone with the sunny afternoon, and tells 
herself that at this very time to-morrow she will be Jes- 
samine Holland no longer. 

The fair, delicate face shines with a great internal hap- 
piness ; but it is not the bright joyfulness of one who 
has never been calmed and steadied by a great sorrow. 

If her thoughts go back into the years, they fall 
among the heavy shadows of her youth, and the radiant 
horizons of her future seem just now to fairly dazzle and 
blind her ; and the present, touched by both past and fu- 
ture, seems like a soft twilight, where she likes best to 
linger for this hour. 

“ How good it is to be alone,” she thinks, “ after 
all these days of busy stir and excitement over the wed- 
ding preparations ! ” Through all, that dear Mrs. Kent, 
who had her share in bringing the whole about, has been 
in her element, taking everything into her own hands, 
and arranging things mostly her own way. 

In one case, however, Jessamine has had hers. Mrs. 
Kent wanted to indulge herself in an ambitious wedding ; 
but Jessamine pleaded so hard for a quiet, unpretending 
bridal, that the former had to yield, and consent to no 
guests outside of the Walbridge family and Mr. and Mrs. 
Bray. Jessamine looks around the pleasant room, and 
the still tears gather in her eyes, remembering the time 
when she first sat there so long ago. Under this roof, the 


408 


THE HOLLANDS. 


heaviest storms of her life have blackened over her, and 
its most radiant dawns have arisen. 

She thinks, too, of the Father to whose hands she has 
tried to cling through the heaviest hours, and the happiest. 
“ Why, Jessamine ! ” says a voice at the low, open window, 
and, turning, she sees Duke Walbridge bound into the 
room. “ I come like a thief and a robber,” he laughs, 
and then, catching sight of the tears in her eyes, adds 
gravely enough, “ What do they mean, Jessamine? ” 

Her smile comes out and answers him, and Duke does 
not need any words beyond that. 

They sit down for the next hour and talk, partly like 
young lovers, and partly like a sensible man and woman, 
who have sounded something of the depths of human life. 

They talk of the little cottage they are to have, a couple 
of miles out of town. Duke has been with the architect 
that day, and seen the drawings, and it will be ready for 
them in the autumn ; bay-windows, verandas, library, and 
all ; — a bobolink’s nest, the Walbridges laughingly call it. 

Duke is to go into business with his father- the old 
man needs his son’s younger muscle and brain. 

“ I had a rare opening in New York the last time I was 
there,” Duke says, “and if I had gone into it and given 
soul and body to the work, I might have built up a grand 
fortune in time, and perhaps set you in a palace on the 
Hudson, or somewhere ; but you and I do not care for the 
money and the splendor, Jessamine.” 

“ Oh, no, Duke ; no more than I did for poor Mrs. 
Kent’s grand wedding.” 

Then the talk slips off to nearer things, to the bridal 


THE HOLLANDS. 


409 


trip to Niagara and the mountains, and Duke thinks, 
although he does not say so, how those beautiful brown 
eyes will drink in with fresh amazement and delight that 
great world they have never seen. 

There is a little pause, and then she turns to him sud- 
denly. “ I cannot tell you, Duke, with how much 
pleasure I have dwelt on the thought that I shall see 
Tom Barclay here to-morrow. Poor fellow ! I cannot 
help feeling that the presence of the young human soul 
which you rescued from sin and shame will be like a 
visible blessing of God upon our bridal ! ” 

“ Poor Tom will owe as much to Ross as to me, 
Jessamine, in the long run,” said Duke. “I must ad- 
mit, when that brother of ours first proposed finding the 
boy a situation in the India house, I was half doubtful 
over his offer. 

“ If the boy turned out for the worse, after all, I should 
blame myself for allowing him to be saddled on Ross; but 
all my objections went for nothing. You know Ross was 
present at the trial, and at the interview betwixt Tom 
and me, after the acquittal. That was enough. In 
Tom Barclay’s case, at least, all Ross’ theories about 
moral backbone have gone to the winds ! ” 

“ He holds to the theories yet, with his native mulish- 
ness,” laughed Jessamine; “he only insists that Tom 
Barclay is an exception to the rule of criminals.” 

“Ross gives a most favorable report of Tom’s 
diligence and integrity,” continued Duke. “ I believe 
the repentance was genuine in that case. By-the-by, 
he was quite overcome with his invitation for to-morrow. 7 ’ 
35 


410 


THE HOLLANDS. 


“Was he? It is singular how the thought of him 
haunts me to-day. How glad I am that he is to be here 
to-morrow, ’ ’ said J essamine, half to herself. Duke looked 
at her a moment, and an impulse came upon him to tell 
her the mysterious share which Tom Barclay had borne 
in- that day’s happiness, for both of them. 

The first words had almost reached his lips, when he 
paused. 

The history of that evening with Margaret Wheatley 
could not fail to impress Jessamine deeply, and re- 
new with painful vividness, just at the time she was to 
enter his family, J essamine’ s sense of the share which 
they had borne in separating himself and her. 

The whole story, however it might interest, could not 
fail to be more or less a shock to her, bringing back, with 
awful force, the misery of days and months which it was 
best she should forget, if possible, in the joy of her 
bridal. When the years had widened behind them, he 
might dare to tell her the story, but it w T as too near and 
too vital now. 

Out, on the veranda, voices and laughter broke sudden- 
ly into his thoughts, and, in a moment, Mrs. Kent and 
Boss and Eva broke in upon them, the young man having 
driven the girl over from town, and come upon the lady 
in her grounds, and the three were in those high spirits 
which seem to befit the eve of a bridal. 

“Ah, you dear things ! ” burst out the girl, on catch- 
ing sight of the two. “ We’ve been searching all over the 
grounds for you. Don’t you think, Duke, mamma has 
had another letter from Edith, and her party travelled so 


THE HOLLANDS. 


411 


slowly, that it will now be impossible for her to get here 
in time to-morrow. Isn’t it aggravating? 

“I expected nothing else from their slow rate of 
moving.” 

Eva fancied her brother was too keenly disappointed to 
say more, and never suspected that both J essamine and 
himself were relieved at the thought that the fair, proud 
face would not show itself in their midst to-morrow. 

Duke had never forgiven his sister the wrong she had 
done him. He wondered sometimes, if he should ever be 
Christian enough to do it. 

“Miss Eva,” interposed Mrs. Kent, who was fluttering 
about in a state of excited enjoyment all this time, “ I 
find that a mysterious package, which has cost me intense 
anxiety, has just arrived. I have an instinct that it con- 
tains a dress, which Miss Jessamine will wear to-morrow. 
I want you to help me unfold it, and then that demure 
young lady is to walk upstairs and try it on.” 

“With all my heart,” answered Eva, and nodding and 
laughing toward her brother and Jessamine, she hurried 
away. 

“I forgot to mention to you, Duke,” said Ross, after 
some other talk, “ that I met Mr. Wheatley on Broadway, 
day before yesterday. He stopped me, — wanted to know 
how Tom Barclay was getting on ; and I gave him a 
good account of his former clerk. He expressed him- 
self glad to hear it, but I thought he had,, at least, 
very little confidence in any thorough reformation of 
the boy.” 

“Probably not,” answered Duke. “I have always 


412 


THE HOLLANDS. 


considered the old gentleman gave me, one day, a won- 
derful proof of his personal regard.” 

“ It struck me, as we parted,” continued Ross, “ that 
it was very singular Miss Wheatley manifested no interest 
for her father’s office-boy. I think you told me you had 
the story first from her own lips, Walbridge. I am sure 
that, under the same circumstances, you would have shown 
no such indifference, Jessamine.” 

Ross’ sister drew a long breath. Her native kindness 
was always prompt to find excuses for people’s short- 
comings, when she could do it honestly. 

“Margaret Wheatley never had any real troubles,” 
said the soft, earnest voice. “ She is very pleasant and 
charming, and all that ; but it seems to me we can hardly 
be tender and pitiful to others, until we have learned the 
meaning of sorrow for ourselves. You understand, Ross ? ” 

“Yes; I understand, Jessamine,” he said, gravely. 

The brother and sister looked at each other, and in a 
moment their youth rose up and moved before them. 

Just then Mrs. Kent’s voice shouted to Jessamine, and 
the latter hurried away. 

Ross rose up and stood by his friend. “ You and I 
will be something more than brothers in name to-morro yr y 
Duke.” 

Duke flung his arms around young Holland’s neck. 
“ Ah, my dear fellow, I little dreamed, when you dragged 
me out of the sea that night, you were giving me back 
again, not only my life, but beyond that, a brother and a 
wife.” 


n 


ISS 


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